A Tale of Hope and Love Part - I: Endor's Hope
by eruilluvatargodofgods
Summary: A fanfiction about Aragorn's story. Starts from Arathorn and Gilraen, Aragorn's upbringing in Rivendell, his journeys in Middle Earth, his love story with Arwen Evenstar and till his death. Hope you like it :D Not affiliated to Tolkien. It is just a fanfiction although some dialogs are taken from the appendices of LOTR.
1. PROLOGUE

**A TALE OF HOPE AND LOVE**

_YEAR 2929_

The morning was chill, more than usual. A white mist settled over the lands of Rhudaur. Word had reached them of the fate of the villages in the east. They were burning, attacked by bands of orcs and other evil creatures of darkness. The men had fled, scattered and leaderless. Now, they were tracking them.

They were the Dunedain of the North, Men of the West. Descendants of the long lost realm of Arnor, they now dwelled in secrecy and stealth, journeying long distances and hunting the servants of the Enemy wherever they found them. For long years now, Eriador and Rhudaur had enjoyed the peace the Rangers had given them but no more. Orcs and goblins constantly descended from the Misty Mountains from Redhorn and the High Pass alike. Smoke rose from the high mountain peaks and dark clouds hovered in the sky, covering the usually bright sun, sending the lands into shadow.

They were in the secret settlement of Nithiel, not very far from the Last Bridge, when the grave news reached them. A village twenty leagues eastward was burned by a group of orcs. Twenty Rangers, led by a great captain, marched out with their great bows of yew and a quiver full of silver arrows, hooded and cloaked with a long sword at their belts.

Now they were here, five leagues west of the burned village, standing upon a ridge of gray rock watching the black smoke rise from thatched barns and hay-stacked houses. They saw it all with their sharp eyes, now very sad and also filled with anger.

Their Captain bowed. The lands were still green and some way yonder they found tracks. Not orc-tracks but man. He whistled to his rangers which sounded more like an owl hoot.

When all were near, "Let us hurry. They may not be very far ahead. This way, come!"

He led them towards the forest grooves to the north, following the tracks. The other Dunedain followed him and once they had entered the forests, none could tell whether they were there or not. Their cloaks camouflaged them.

They ran with very light footfalls and they had been going thus for three hours when they heard orc-cries. The sound came from the northwest direction and they hurried towards it.

It was not far. They had almost reached the place, a small clearing. In the small clearing, there stood an old man, in his forties, holding a sharp sword with two women by his side, each holding knives in their hands. They were being pursued by orcs – small, stunted and hideous looking. The Rangers looked at them in detest. Some of them had their bows already strung. The Captain, however, raised his hand. "Daro!" he cried.

The Rangers looked at him. He whispered, "Let them come near. We do not want them to be alerted to our presence. Loose your arrows when they reach the third tree. Daihir, Sylvain, you will go and rescue the women and escort them to safety. The rest will follow me. Let us hunt some orc."

The Rangers murmured in assent.

The Orcs had reached the third tree when a hail of arrows met them. All of them found their mark downing the hideous beasts. The Captain, still hooded, brandished his sword and placed the tip upon his forehead. He slowly started walking towards the orcs who had diverted from their prey and coming towards them.

The Rangers kept loosing their arrows upon them. An orc came quite close but it met its death as the Captain swinged his sword at it, cleaving it from chest to loin. With another swing he beheaded another, sending its head crashing into the tree trunk to his left. The Rangers removed their swords too and started killing orcs at will. There were too many. Perhaps the village east was emptied of them. Twenty atleast fell by the hands of the Captain as he displayed his swordsmanship.

The two rangers who were bidden otherwise ran towards their left cleaving everyone in their path and finally reached the old man and the two women by his side.

"Come, we need to go west. Make haste." said Daihir.

The man was reluctant. "I will not flee but you may take the women."

He then took his sword and ran towards the quickly falling orcs. He blocked an attack by a huge one eyed orc and turned the sword against it, piercing its eye and then swung his sword to behead it. Another lunged at him only to be pierced in the stomach.

The Captain kept killing the remaining orcs, his sword now feared by his enemies. Very few who remained now fled towards the east. He motioned to the Rangers, all of them unhurt. "Follow them. Let no orc reach their villages. Go."

The Rangers cried "Ah Ha!" and ran towards the direction in which the orcs had fled.

The Captain came to the old man who was still fighting two orcs. The Captain stabbed one in its back, the orc's face contorting in pain. He then removed his sword, letting the orc fall to the muddy ground and beheaded the other with a single swing.

He stood there now, panting, his breath swiftening. Then he looked up. The old man stared back at him and nodded.

"It was a short battle." said the Captain.

"Aye" said the old man.

"Where were you heading to?"

"I do not know. Just westward. We were hoping to find a safer place."

"No place is safe this time in the world. Shadows lengthen after a long peace as it is wont to. The orc attacks have been numerous and they have been striking at many places."

The old man stared at him with intent eyes. "You are the Dunedain, descended from the line of kings."

The Captain nodded. "Come, we must make haste. The roads are safe no longer. You have women with you. We must take you west to Tualdor, our secret settlement. There you may tell what you have to tell."

Then they set out westward and sometime later, they met company. Two women with two men. The Captain now removed his hood. He was fair they could see with long black hair. In his eyes was wisdom and strength.

"I am Arathorn, son of Arador." He claimed.

The two women let out huge audible gasps. "Isildur's heir." said the woman on the left.

"Hush!" said Sylvain, a young ranger, still to come of age.

"My name is Dirhael. Son of Arador, you say. That is great news indeed. Arador was my friend when we were young and played and learned together. If you are who you tell you are, I offer you my gratitude, lord, and my salute. So do my wife, Ivorwen and my daughter, Gilraen."

The two of them bowed along with the old man.

"You need not bow to me thus. I am not yet the Chieftain but you may do the same to my father when we reach. For now, we must make haste."

Then his eyes went towards Gilraen. She was quite young. She had recently come of age. Her eyes betrayed a light blue colour and she had long black hair and was fairer than any lady he had beheld. He looked into her eyes which seemed to be smiling at him. She herself was smiling and her ears had grown almost red. He nodded and put his sword into his silver scabbard that hung at his waists.

"Come!" he said.

Gilraen's eyes followed him westward as he pranced. She knew she had fallen in love. He was the man she wanted to be with. Dirhael, however, looked uncomfortable; his eyes wandering from Arathorn to Gilraen.

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	2. Chapter - 1 : Merry-Doddling

**CHAPTER – 1: MERRY-DODDLING**

Fifteen days after their encounter with the orcs, they reached the secret capital of Arnor. Tualdor it was named, situated within a long clearing in the forests of Chetwood, just a few leagues east of Bree. Encircled by a huge hedge, Tualdor boasted of being the central settlement in all Arnor. Mainly, it was the dwelling of the Chieftain of the Dunedain, now Arador.

They entered through an opening in the hedge guarded by two hooded guards holding long spears in their hands. They bowed to Arathorn as he passed them by. Within the hedge, the lands were green and filled with farms and hay stacked houses. There were children playing amidst the grass and patrols roaming hither and thither watching the lands. A small graveled path led from the gate to the chieftain's house.

It was some miles from the gate to their destination but they covered it within the first half of an hour. The sun was high in the sky and there were little or no clouds. The days were bright again.

It seemed that a feast was in place because the larder had been emptied and the food placed on long tables in silver plates and there were huge barrels of ale. The children played with toys and ran around the adults who seemed to be merry-making. Some Dunedain were singing songs, in elvish and in numenorean tongues.

The small Company walked past them, each of them joining in song except for the Captain and his escort- Dirhael and his two companions. While the Dunedain rangers of the Company dispersed into the crowd, Arathorn and Dirhael continued towards the Chieftain who was sitting on a huge chair on whose front was a small table containing plates of food and jugs of ale.

The Chieftain of the Dunedain, Arador, was now an old man. He was bald in the center but at his sides were strands of gray hair. He wore a golden jewel strapped across his forehead. His eyes were like Arathorn's, blue and deep. He was of the same height as his son and he was now clad in a silvery blue coat underneath which was a black shirt upon which the white tree was designed with seven stars upon the top. His beard was trimmed and so was his moustache. He looked up as Arathorn and his companions drew near.

"Hail, Chieftain of the Dunedain." said Dirhael, as he bowed.

Ivorwen and Gilraen did the same but Arathorn bowed slightly like a nod of his head.

Arador rose up although he did have some difficulty with it.

"Arathorn, you have returned." He said in his deep voice. "And you have brought us company. How fared your mission, son?"

"We went to Nithiel first, father, and there we learned many things. Orcs are swarming in the east. They come from southward by the way of Redhorn and from the north, scouring the High Pass."

Arador nodded. "A group of rangers returned yesterday having fought three or more bands of orcs which tried to cross the Loudwater"

"Loudwater? That is impossible to cross unless at the fords of Bruinen, my lord."

"Yet they tried. We filled them with arrows and those who still managed to set foot in the west got our swords in them. These orcs are not dull creatures like we thought. They are being guided by a mysterious force, something that sets its will against us."

"It must be the Necromancer that we so hear of. The one who dwells east of the Mountains in Dol Goldur. He will pay for this." said Arathorn.

"He will pay but not by us. We are too few in numbers to assail his stronghold and Lord Elrond of Rivendell will not give us his blessings in this. But we shall speak of these matters later. I see you have found Dirhael and his companions. I am glad to see them."

So Arador turned towards Dirhael and said, "It has been a long time, my friend."

"Long time indeed." replied Dirhael. "It is years since you left Rhudaur, my friend. We have missed you."

"Tualdor has long been our home, Dirhael. But in Rhudaur stayed a distant relative who agreed to take care of me while my father went to war with the orcs that have been coming down from the Misty Mountains. That you know. I had to return. This is my home and will ever be."

Dirhael nodded.

"What made you leave your village, Dirhael?" Arador asked, his eyes furrowed.

"Orcs, my lord."

Arador looked disgusted.

Arathorn spoke up then, "Orcs have been roaming the east, burning and killing as they go. We found them surrounded just a little away from their sacked village. Some might have escaped but they are scattered and many are fleeing west as we speak. Rhudaur is being emptied. I could feel the silence in its forests."

"Uh, this is bad news. We must learn what the orcs are after. This does not bode well." said Arador.

"Neither can we sit quiet, father. We have the numbers here in Eriador. We must take the fight to them."

"And we will, but first we must learn. As I have said before, these orcs are not just any orcs looking for pillage. I suspect they are looking for something or someone." As he said that, Arador looked into Arathorn's eyes.

Arathorn nodded silently.

Arador looked at him intently and then turned again to Dirhael. "Now again is not the time to speak of such evil. Today is a day of merriment. As you see around, the town of Tualdor is in an uproar. Come on now." He said, patting Dirhael's back.

Suddenly he spoke again, "O, my ladies. Sorry to keep you standing for long. The discussions of men can prove wearisome to the ears of women. You must be Ivorwen. It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady." Arador said, pecking her on her forehead and then turning to the younger girl, "Gilraen, you must be. I saw you when you were in your cradle. You have grown into a beautiful young girl. May the Valar bless you, my child."

Gilraen bowed happily.

As Arador and Dirhael passed her by, Gilraen looked up to face Arathorn and smiled. Arathorn returned her smile but went past her without speaking a word.

All the Dunedain were now assembled around a great fire. "Lord Arathorn, can you please sing us a song?"

Arathorn looked at them, "I am not a bard, Halberd."

Halberd replied to that, "We have oft heard that the voice of a king is many times the voice of a bard. It is uplifting they say. Let us now know whether it is true. Sing, my lord."

Arathorn looked uneasy but then when he started, they all looked in wonder.

_Far over the distant sundering Seas,_

_There lay an island starry shaped._

_Once was proud, now no more_

_It lies beneath the waves of froth._

_Once it lay in elven grace,_

_The men there lived a long age._

_Now, it is but a dream in our minds,_

_A vision long of the past._

_Between the lands of the mortals and the undying,_

_A gift it was from the Vala._

_But now it is taken,_

_Far far from us._

_Huge castles and golden barns,_

_Silver trees and bronze temples._

_Great peaks of Meneltarma._

_That we shall miss, to the end of days._

_The sun was bright there and the moon adored,_

_Far from evil, yet shadowed._

_Fell it did from the grace of the West,_

_Upon the storms came its heirs,_

_To fight the one who brought it about_

_Vengeance in our hearts, fire in our blood._

_That we took in the end of ends._

_But now it arises, again and again._

_Too long have we known the hatred of the East,_

_The menace and the evil._

_Now we arise, again through hope._

And so Arathorn finished. All fell silent except Gilraen who went upto him and said, "You sing beautifully, my lord. You surely are a bard."

"Thank you, my lady." Saying Arathorn bowed.

Gilraen smiled and went away.

All during this exchange, Dirhael looked and he liked it not. He would have spoken to his daughter as she left blushing towards the tables but Ivorwen stopped him, "Let her be, lord. Now is not the time and the decision is hers to make."

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	3. Chapter - 2: A Discussion in the Night

**CHAPTER – 2: A DISCUSSION IN THE NIGHT**

Arador took Arathorn into the Council Room where the other Dunedain were assembled the night after the feast. The Council Room was not huge but big enough to convene a meeting their size. Other than the Chieftain and his son, there were five others. Halberd the Ranger, Elthain, Rubert, Mablung and Rick.

The room had a circular table and on it was a rolled parchment. Arador beckoned his men to take a seat on the wooden chairs placed around the table. As soon as they were all perched, Arador unrolled the parchment which turned out to be a map of Arnor. Arador took a quill and marked with black ink three places. One near the Redhorn Pass, one near the High Pass and the other near Ettenmoors.

"What are you doing, father?" asked Arathorn.

"Marking the places from where the orcs seem to be harrying us."

"Ettenmoors, the troll-fells north of Rivendell. I did not know."

"Trolls have been sighted upon the northern borders of Rhudaur. Well, it seems not all trolls were killed in the rout of Angmar long ago or trolls might have been occupying the area these days having come from the east."

Arathorn studied his father. "Do you think Angmar is rising again? I mean, it was not cleared of all evil when the Witch King fled. I fear it may rise again."

"Nay, it is not possible although I do no doubt the eastern lands of Angmar are being occupied with orcs and goblins and other evil creatures but if any would come out of the North we would know. On that we have been sure. No activity in the north. The elves have been keeping watch with us. Moreover, the Orcs of the Mountains were destroyed by the dwarves and all their tunnels cleaned."

"Was it cleaned? The Enemy's minions have delved into the mountains far beneath them. It would not be a surprise."

"No, it wouldn't be. But all the more I am sure that the orcs and trolls have been coming from the east. They have been multiplying again and I fear that they will attack us in forces soon if they have not already started."

"We are few. We do not have the numbers to defend all of Arnor." said Halberd.

"No we do not." replied the Chieftain. "But we will stall them nonetheless. I would need one of you to carry the word to Imladris."

"I will go" said Rick.

"Then you shall." Taking a letter from his pockets, Arador handed it out to Rick. "You shall give it to Lord Elrond and no one else. Go now. You shall reach the earlier and earlier it is, better our chances of hope."

Rick bowed and left the Room.

"What message did you send to Lord Elrond, father?"

"You shall know about it. Elthain, bring it."

Elthain went to another table upon which there was a brown leather pouch. The pouch was tied by a single black rope which Elthain untied. Clutching it by his hands, he brought it to the Council table and emptied it. Arathorn and the others gasped in wonder as they saw jewels and rings and necklaces spread upon the table.

"What is this?" asked Rubert.

"Spoils we took from the orcs. Orcs have been pillaging the villages but searching the wilderland for jewels brings to me suspicions. These are not ordinary jewels as you see. Each jewel or ring has a pattern. These have been taken from distant relatives of the line of kings or someone related to the high king's noblemen."

"Interesting." remarked Arathorn.

"Yes. They have been looking for something and we must learn what."

"How?"

"These orcs are smart as I told you. These are no mindless dabble. They have been guided by a strong force. We know not who it maybe but then, we have to find who is directing these forces. We might have stopped them for now but I fear more will come. It is in the Mountains we must search. Arathorn, are you ready for a mission I can entrust only to you?"

Arathorn bowed. "Command me, father."

"You will go eastward as soon as it is light tomorrow. Take the East Road to the High Pass. Find what you can of the movements of the orcs and who commands them. Find out what they are searching for in the wilderlands of Rhudaur."

Arathorn bowed. "So be it, father."

"My lord, you are sending your son to his death at the most. If we know that the orcs are multiplying on our eastern borders, is it not folly to send your only son into what certainly might be a trap?" asked Halberd.

Arador looked at him and replied, "Surely you do not think I am committing a mistake. I know very well of the dangers that will present themselves. Arathorn will have to travel alone into the mountains. Would that I had a huge force at my command, I would have sent a few men along with him. Those that are with me are in Tualdor or journeying north or patrolling in Rhudaur. Some have even gone east to gather news wherever they can and also south as far as the Gap of Rohan. But, I would need my men to do something else for me."

"What may it be, my lord?" asked Halberd.

"While Arathorn travels the East Road, I want my captains to take my men to the east by the faster route and that means through the wild. You will cross Rhudaur where a contingent from Nithiel will join you. I have already sent word and then you will continue north towards the high pass. I will need you to distract the orc-holds. Draw out all the orcs into the wilderlands where the northern patrols will be waiting for them. Once the mountains have been emptied or the orc-holds are lessened, Arathorn will succeed getting into the Mountains."

"But how will Arathorn know when the time is right?"

"He will know. Trust me. But I want this done as soon as possible. Take your horses. Riding would be faster."

Halberd and Elthain bowed.

Arador nodded and towards Arathorn he looked. "Now you go have a good night's sleep. You have traveled long and you will have to travel again. Rest is needed."

"True, father. I take your leave."

"Go. As soon as the sun rises, I shall have a man wake you up."

Arathorn smiled. He was weary. He was tired and he had a long journey ahead. Bowing again, he left the Room and Elthain followed him.

"Halberd, do you wish to tell me something?" asked Arador.

"Yes, my lord."

"Then speak."

"If you will give me my leave, can I accompany Arathorn on his quest?" asked Halberd.

Arador looked at him and smiled. "You are his friend, Halberd and I am happy that you choose to be at his side. Well, you can go with him. He would appreciate some help at least. You are a good Ranger and swordsman. That is good too. I can trust nothing but friendship and loyalty in this sort of missions. Go now. You need rest too if you are to go with my son."

"Thank you, my lord."

Arador nodded. "May the Valar bless you two."

Halberd bowed and went away, a big smile upon his face.

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	4. Chapter - 3: A Journey with a Friend

**CHAPTER – 3: A JOURNEY WITH A FRIEND**

It was but three hours from the secret settlement to the East Road. Arathorn and Halberd however had completed that part of their journey in two and a half. Shortcuts through the woods they took. Arathorn knew all of them. He was a man of the wild and it pained him to take the bleak road east, which wound and delayed his journey but he knew it was for the best. The battle was being taken to the orcs for his safety and the success of his quest. He must not fail. He will not. In this he was determined.

The day was bright and shiny. Birds chirped in the forests and crows flew high in the sky in circles. Both of them were hooded in cloaks with wooden sticks in their hands which made soft noises when they touched the stony road. The East Road was empty. No one traveled the roads these days, except maybe the dwarves. There were also some elves who would journey beyond the Lune to the Grey Havens and then to the uttermost West to the Undying Lands from where they never came back to Middle-Earth. Except these, none. The Rangers journeyed most of the times through the Wild which they were accustomed to.

The East Road turned this way and that. It was never straight and wound through the woods but ever it wound southward to avoid the Midgewater Marshes to the north.

"I am glad you came, Halberd, otherwise it would be a lonesome journey. I wonder how a lone dwarf travels this road as I have seen often."

Halberd laughed. "Nay, my friend Arathorn, a lone dwarf knows that at the end of his journey he will be rewarded with gold and other precious metals. So he makes this toilsome journey, alone if need be, regardless of peril. You know how these dwarves are. They are strange, unlike us and even the elves. They are a secretive lot, capable of keeping information to themselves. I have heard that they are not possible to dominate. They never subjugate themselves to other powers and they can be in rage if troubled incessantly. That is their advantage, I guess."

Arathorn smiled at his friend's description of the dwarven qualities. "Good to know you have researched the dwarves pretty well enough. There is also a problem with them though. They care little for the troubles of the world, not unless the trouble concerns them. They little realize our fight for freedom. We fight for Middle Earth, not for ourselves. There are dwarves in the Blue Mountains away westward but they do not help us keep Eriador free from this ever growing peril."

"Aye." said Halberd. "They care only for their precious metals, but sometimes I fear it is for their own good."

Arathorn nodded. "Perhaps, but I wish they swelled our ranks. It would be good to know that other folks fight beside us."

Halberd fell silent. They walked slowly. The road was still silent.

Five days later, they had reached Weathertop. As soon as they sighted the lone hill north of the Road with a barren top, Arathorn stood tall, like a king of old, and remarked, "Ah! The Tower of Amon Sul We will rest here tonight."

They camped that night on the flat hill top and watched over the lands now covered in nightly dark. A fire they lit right at the centre, having carried what dead wood they could find in the forests to the south. The flames crackled, the only sound in that desolate silence. They distrusted it.

"Silent that always, don't you think?" asked Halberd.

Arathorn nodded his head. He stood watching the east, looking for movements that may betray anything. There was none. He sighed and went back to sit beside the warm fire.

"Nobody on the road. No dwarf, no ranger. Everything is still. Not even birds. I wonder. No sound at all unless you count the noise the dead wood makes when it burns with red fire." said Arathorn.

"Aye!" remarked Halberd. "I wonder what that means. I have heard of the East Road being lonely but not this lonely at the least. How would I know? I have never traveled east. My journeys have been mostly to the south across Cardolan and Minhiriath, even as far as Langstrand in the realm of Gondor."

Arathorn nodded, "Do you not tell me that you have not been to Rhudaur at all or even to the Fords of Bruinen and the Last Bridge?"

"Nay, lord Arathorn; I have not been that way."

Arathorn laughed. "We call ourselves friends and we know so little of where we travel."

"It is not exactly that we have spent long time together. You were always ranging north and east and who knows into what land. I have been away south for the most part of my life. All I remember is the childhood we spent together. Golden days they were, when our cares were less and we carried but little burdens."

Arathorn nodded. "Aye."

"But the burden was still heavy on you, my friend, for you are from a great lineage."

Arathorn looked intent into the fire; his eyes gleaming red upon its reflection.

"I still carry a lot, Halberd, and I know father carries more. It is upon us maybe to face greater things."

"Maybe but let us not weary ourselves with such talk of the Enemy. Sauron is gone for good."

"Are we sure of that? Even if Sauron was defeated during the Last Alliance, his shadow still lies on distant lands."

Halberd nodded. "For such was his malice and hate for us, those of the West. I still remember the days when we used to sit around the fire in our encampment and sing about the days of Gil-galad and Elendil."

"Ah! Yes, those were the days. It has been a long time since then."

"Long indeed."

"You used to sing pretty well those days. Perhaps it is your turn to be a bard now."

"Not here, my lord."

"Why not? It is so silent; we could use a little music. A song would definitely drive away the doubts in our hearts. Perhaps some of the old days."

"So be it, lord. As you command."

"Command? No, think of it as a request."

"Indeed, my lord."

And then he began to sing.

_An elven king he was,_

_Of the old folk of the West._

_A Son of Fingon._

_His lance was tall,_

_His spear was long,_

_Aeglos it was called._

_He was a leader,_

_A crafty lord,_

_Friend to the Shipwrights._

_When the Kings came from the West,_

_Upon the Lune, he met them._

_The Faithful men, of the West,_

_It mattered to him not. _

_He helped them found_

_The realm now lost._

_Upon Weathertop, friendship renewed._

_An elven king, a just king,_

_To hold the good along._

_A ring he had,_

_An elven ring,_

_Bequeathed to Elrond._

_Always he did, a friendly thing_

_With Elendil the Elf-Friend_

_At last it came,_

_A darkness wing_

_Out of the East, _

_Westward reaching,_

_Arms of shadow._

_Then he arose in wrath and friendship,_

_Gathered to him an army of elves._

_March he did, east and east, towards the land of shadow._

_With men, he formed,_

_The alliance last,_

_Never again to be seen._

_Not so fair as when Thangorodrim broken,_

_But as fair as could be found,_

_In the lands of Endor._

_Through the Gates Black, he pushed_

_Mighty he was, the elven king._

_His spear gleamed, with the light_

_Of the white moon._

_Then He came, with the One,_

_To dominate all the life on Earth. _

_Courage he had, to face the Dark,_

_Notwithstanding the doubts of fear._

_Gil-galad was an elven king, one to be revered,_

_But now he lies deep _

_In the lands of Mordor where the shadows lie._

Arathorn smiled, "Now you see it. Now you hear it, the voice of you who could be a bard."

Halberd laughed. "My mother used to sing me songs. Perhaps, I am truly my mother's son."

"That you are." said Arathorn smiling.

"Come now, we must rest and ere the dawn rises, we must leave this hill-top to head eastward."

Arathorn nodded. He was weary from the long journey they had had. His eyes took no moment to drop down and he was asleep in quite a jiffy.

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	5. Chapter - 4: The Road Turns North

**CHAPTER – 4: THE ROAD TURNS NORTH**

Twelve days later to the night they had spent upon the barren hill top of Amon Sul, they had reached a point where the road branched off. One led to the High Pass in the East but for that, the road twisted northward aiming for the troll-fells and the other led to the Fords of Bruinen, Loudwater as called by men and so further on the elven fortress of Rivendell.

They had no intention of going to Rivendell. That was far from their mission. Their road was the northward road. So they followed the other branch which went into the forests of Rhudaur. The twelve days had been tiresome and they had toiled heavily. They had met a few dwarves who seemed to be going west but thankfully, they had not met orcs. They wondered where they were and whether they were still out there in the wilderness destroying and pillaging villages. But surely, that would not be the case. The Rangers from Tualdor might have given battle to them and even now, the orcs of the Misty Mountains might have been lured out of their caverns.

The snowy mountains rose to their east, higher as they took their feet northward. The wind was getting chilly and they were walking under the trees. It was getting cooler as the road wound its way. They could hear the rushing waters of Bruinen to the east, not far away.

They had just gone a little north when three elves jumped from the trees, startling them.

"You look taken aback, Arathorn, son of Arador. Looks like you have forgotten us and our lessons." said one elf, tall, fair and with bright blue eyes and golden streaming hair.

Arathorn laughed, "One thing you must know, Gwindor, however much you learn from the elves, you cannot beat them. You know that very well, don't you? You being an elf. Say, what brings you here?"

Gwindor smiled. "We were just returning from the north. Lord Elrond asked us to watch over the Ettenmoors. We suspect that there is much troll-activity there. Orcs have been busy. We bring back reports. It was when we were heading eastward to the Fords that we saw you. We decided to have a little fun."

"Blessed be the sight of the elves." said Arathorn.

"Now tell me, son of Arador, where be you heading to? Since you are on the northward path, I assume you are not going to Rivendell."

"The Chieftain sends me to discover what I can of the orcs in the High Pass. It is there that I head to."

Gwindor looked at him with his eyes furrowed. "A dangerous mission, friend. Those foul vermin have been multiplying in droves and if that is not stopped, Eriador will soon be under attack. Already, as you know about, the orcs pillage and burn the villages that remain in Rhudaur. Do not go there, my friend. It is only death you shall get."

"I am on orders, Gwindor. Nothing can move me to do so otherwise. I have been told to gather what I can and that I will. As for danger, it grows with every step eastward. Do you not worry, friend, as we speak, the Rangers give battle northward."

The other elves looked taken aback. Gwindor remained unmoved. "You are a stubborn lord, Arathorn. So be it. Do not say then I did not remind you. But you must go soon. If the Rangers are doing battle, it is only to give you safe passage, I presume. Arador is risking much."

One of the other elves, shorter but more fairer with silver white hair and gray eyes, came forward. "I wonder why the mortal lord is risking his strength? To gather what information? Is it that important?"

"It must be important, Moronwe. Arador is wise and would not spend his strength upon a whim. Some news has reached him. He might have yet sent Lord Elrond a message. We must learn it when we reach Imladris."

Arathorn nodded. "He has indeed sent a message to Rivendell. Whether it has reached, we know not. I hope it has."

Gwindor smiled. "Let us all hope it has. The more we learn of the movements of our enemies, the better. Now, son of Arador, we must part ways. You have a quest and a hard path in front of you. We have to speak with Lord Elrond as soon as possible. Some news from the East troubles us."

"The Necromancer?" asked Halberd.

Gwindor looked at him and nodded. "Aye! He is moving far too fast."

"I presume the Necromancer is behind these attacks upon Eriador." said Arathorn.

"Maybe, maybe not. We could not tell. We do not yet know for sure who this Necromancer is. He might be the servant of Sauron of old but Mithrandir thinks he is the Enemy himself."

Arathorn looked glum. "We must find out if Sauron is behind the attacks on our villages. He is looking for something, we are sure of it."

Gwindor nodded. "The sooner you find, calmer your hearts will be."

"Aye." replied Arathorn.

"May the Valar bless you both on your journeys, son of Arador. May Elbereth protect you."

Arathorn bowed to Gwindor who hoisted his pack and ran off into the forests to the south and east, followed by the two elves.

"Come now, Halberd. We must continue on our road."

Halberd nodded.

They strode now with fast paces and covering their heads with hoods again, they disappeared into the thick woodland forests.


	6. Chapter - 5: A Thing or Two They Learn

**CHAPTER – 5: A THING OR TWO THEY LEARN**

They were knee deep in snow. The wind was getting chillier and there were few places where they could shelter. The road was narrow. On one side, there was the steep mountain side and on the other a deep ravine. Trees were few and those that remained were completely white with snowflakes hanging upon their branches. Their stoves did not help them much either.

Snow almost covered their beards and a snowstorm was ranging nigh about them. They wished for a shelter. They were far upward to return to the wildernesse in the valleys behind. They wondered if the orcs had been lured out. This snowstorm was turning nastier by the minute.

"This mountain is acting like Caradhras." said Halberd. "We can go no longer forward."

Arathorn was not far behind. He was weary. "We cannot go back. There is no shelter that we have passed. We have no choice but to seek the way forward or stay and seek the snow-sleep."

Halberd nodded. "Tough luck"

Arathorn sighed. "We must not linger here any longer. Forward."

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The next day, the storm had subsided but the weather was cold nonetheless. The road was getting wider and was now straight. There was a small plateau on either side, each plateau climbing up gradually until it reached a cliff with a sharp peak. And then the road after a short distance climbed down to the east.

The eastern sides of the Misty Mountains were delved. They knew that they had come to the habitable parts of the enemy. Orcs always preferred to live in tunnels like these. Some were small while others were huge. But not one of them could tell how treacherous these tunnels could be.

"We must rest a while before we venture into the tunnels. We are tired. I know we are. We must build our strength ere we need it." said Halberd.

Arathorn nodded. "Get some dry wood; it is bound to be found nearby."

"Is lighting a fire a wise counsel, my lord? A fire is bound to lure enemies to us."

"True. Leave it then, we must only sit out the night."

"It is going to be cold."

"Yes, it will be cold. But we can weather it as we must do all things."

"Aye"

And so they sat through the whole night, rarely sleeping, with their hands folded near their chest, hoods covering their heads. Their backs leant against the snow-capped trees that grew near the barren gray cliff walls.

The land was silent. There were no travelers since the mountains were growing evil again. These mountains were once free of goblins and orcs, ever since the dwarves started cleansing them. The dwarves had gone on a rampage ever since they had heard that Thror was captured and killed by the orcs of Moria. They had ransacked every orc stronghold from Mount Gundabad in the north to Moria in the south. Very few of the orcs were left and they hid deep in the tunnels of the mountains. But now, they were multiplying again and having been reinforced by the Shadow in the East, they were now getting stronger.

As evil crept back in the mountains, the East Road was deserted and very few traveled them, unless for an occasional elf or a dwarf off to seek riches. The Rangers preferred to take the Caradhras and the Redhorn Pass in the south and come by the way of Gladden. But that path had now grown too perilous since there was ever there a threat of wolves which had not yet been countered.

The air brought no news to them either. It was particularly unwholesome. What could they expect in such a land where evil grew unchecked and at will? Little.

The whooshing of the wind could be heard clearly but it was not as strong as what they had met on the way up to the pass. Snowflakes floated in the air and slowly pulled towards the earth, settling silently on the ground. Their green hoods were now white. Any passerby would not notice them sitting by the trees; they were so camouflaged. They had their heads bowed which made them difficult to be noticed.

They did not talk the whole night for the fear of being discovered. Sound traveled faster during the silent nights and they did not want to blow the cover of their secrecy.

Morning came swiftly but the sun was hidden amidst the clouds. Very little light reached them but the air began to grow a little warmer. They stood almost suddenly as if their rest had renewed their vigor and strength.

They took back to the road and started climbing down the slope downward but they were very careful and made little noise. There were many tunnels on their right as the plateau above rose higher and the steep rocky cliff walls began to appear on their side. The left side was slowly giving way to steep cliffs and then later, a view of the eastern valleys and the forests that lengthened before them.

There was no activity in the tunnels. They looked empty. There was no sound, except perhaps of a slight echo of their very light footfalls. Then, one very large tunnel opened up and they decided to venture into it. This tunnel, like others, was empty. No sound reached them and they approached the inside of the tunnels with great caution and with backs to their walls, their figures bent.

The tunnel was delved right into the heart of the mountain and the cave gave way to a rocky passage. The way was narrow and there were many paths delved and each path climbed down into the mountain. To choose the right path was a difficult question. They could easily get lost. The entire tunnel was a great labyrinth.

Halberd nodded and went forward into the tunnel to his left while Arathorn decided to take the right. The center path they distrusted. Perhaps because of the foul air that emanated from it.

After he was sure Halberd was gone, Arathorn silently took the right passage. Cool air barged into the passage through the numerous fissures in its walls. He ran but making little sound. He did not want to alert any orcs that might have yet remained in these holds. Moreover, he was not even sure whether the Rangers of Arthedain had succeeded in luring them out of the taverns into the wilderland in the West. He hoped they had done so.

He heard some voices. "Orcs" he whispered in disgust.

He bent nearer the small opening to see a wide room, shabby and full of spider webs. Three orcs, heavily armed, stood there. One orc however was majestically clad in a silver armor. Arathorn surmised it was the Captain. He hid behind a wall and his ears pricked up, intent upon listening on the conversation the foul vermin were having.

"They lured us out." said one orc.

"Lured, you say. Why did you send the whole lot after them, you idiot? We do not know how many there are. Are you so foolish, you maggot?"

The orc whimpered as it felt a whip-lash.

"What will He make of this? You maggots have put me in a delicate situation. Without the number, we cannot seek what He wants. You understand that?"

Another whip-lash.

"He wishes us to find out whether the Heir of Isildur still lives. Which is why He asked us to find the jewels of the west. But you, being maggots, have brought me nothing. And now you send off our full force after them Rangers, few as they are. Maggots, I tell you."

The orc cried as another whip lashed at its back.

"I beg your forgiveness. We shall go bring them back."

The other orc looked at it ferociously and then at the Captain.

The Orc-Captain laughed and Arathorn spat upon the wall.

"From the dead, foolish idiot? You have the audacity to make a joke."

Another whip lashed at it.

The orc was injured, Arathorn could see. Its back was black, laced in blood, at the sight of which he smirked.

"Do not ever make fun while we have work to do. He has asked us to find the Heir of Isildur and find him we shall."

"But, my lord, we have no forces." said the other orc.

The Captain huffed. His breath was hot and the cave was filled with its stench.

"I shall go east and bring some of our own folk who now wander in the woods. Till then, make no move. If these Rangers have so declared battle upon us, then we must lie hid for some time. They might be in numbers and maybe even the cursed elves are with them. Do not get out of the cave and tie this maggot and take him to the second cave."

The whipped orc whimpered and gave a cry. Clearly, it knew what the second cave meant. This meant there were more orcs in the cave and they were not all here. He heard the Captain move out and he would also move out in time. He had learnt what he had come to learn. The Enemy was searching for the Heir of Isildur and the Enemy could mean only one. Sauron, the Dark Lord or it could be one of the Nazgul acting on behalf of the Enemy. But Lord Elrond had sent them messages that the Enemy had once again arisen in Southern Mirkwood and that was not really far from this place.

The second orc was almost about to tie the whipped one with tough brown ropes when it began to sniff with its nose. Arathorn was alert. Probably, he had been scented. The whipped orc looked at him and asked, "What is it?"

"Man-flesh." The orc with the rope said.

The whipped orc rose up, still whimpering with pain. "Not possible. We saw no Ranger here. They all ran away westward, our folk at their cursed heels."

"One must have remained and maybe some more. The Captain has to know. You stay here."

The orc began to take off when he heard a painful cry. Arathorn had sneaked into the room and gutted the whipped orc with his sword. Black blood oozed onto the tip of his blade as he removed it from his victim who fell to the floor dead. The other orc which was taking off gave a cry and brandished its curved scimitar. It licked its steel and came towards him. The first blow Arathorn parried while the next, he waved off. The third blow missed Arathorn by small inches and the fourth he again blocked.

Arathorn was playing defensive for a while, parrying and blocking the orc's attacks. It was as if Arathorn was playing with a toy. A light was upon him and the orc looked to be in fear. Then in the sudden, like a great strength had taken hold of him, he pushed the orc away, it crashing into the walls and whimpering in pain, its stunted hands clutching its back. But he was not done, he snatched the scimitar which had fallen and threw it onto the far side. The steel clanged and made a great noise which echoed in the walls of the cavern. The orc rose in pain and looked at him, his eyes betraying fear and knowing death. Arathorn raised his sword to strike him when he heard a man huff. Halberd, finally.

"Do not do that or your friend here will die." cried a harsh voice.

Arathorn grabbed the disarmed orc in his hands and turned around to see the Captain having a wounded Halberd in his arms.

"Let him go." said Arathorn.

"Let him go?" smirked the Captain. "If we let you go, you would carry the news to the West and our Lord would not want that. Does He? No indeed. I am sure you have peeked into our conversation, filthy it may sound to you. Now I see why you had the Rangers of yours attack us. A diversion, eh? Clever plot and it almost got us. But now, your quest is in vain, filthy man of the west. Now you both die."

The Captain laughed loud and with a harsh look upon his eyes, slit Halberd's throat. Halberd fell to the ground, face forward, a pool of crimson blood forming around him.

"No" Arathorn shouted.

"He was dear to you, I see. A close of friend of yours? I think so. Very well, we shall reunite you with him, grant you your death wish." He licked the blood off his blade and came near to Arathorn.

Arathorn backed a little, still grabbing the disarmed orc which was trying to get away but could not. Arathorn was too strong for it.

"If I am going to die, I might as well kill this vermin." Arathorn shouted and moved the sword along the orc's throat, slitting it deep.

The orc fell to the floor and lay still.

The Captain became furious and lunged at Arathorn. Arathorn blocked it away, bringing his sword to counter its attack. The steels clanged together.

He knew he could not play defensive any longer. He needed to take Halberd's body and get out of the place if he can. And faster, before any of the other orcs came into the caverns.

He pushed the Captain away and then lunged at him. The swords clashed together and this went on for five minutes, the sound echoing across.

And then with a swift stroke, he lashed his sword in a circle and beheaded the Captain before it could strike him. The Captain's head went flying across, striking the rocky walls and falling to the ground, tumbling.

Arathorn sighed and looked at his fallen friend, Halberd. Tears welled up in his eyes and he bent down near his still body. He took him in his arms. "Good-bye dear friend. I ask you to forgive me because I could not save you. I shall want some redemption."

He carried him on his shoulders. "At the least I will not leave you here to be fodder to the orcs. I shall carry you into the West where you can lie in the halls of your fathers. Come, my friend, into our lands we go. To home."

Saying, he disappeared into the passage, from whence he had come.

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	7. Chapter - 6: A Small Council

**CHAPTER – 6: A SMALL COUNCIL**

It was a weary journey for Arathorn. The climb back down was troublesome. He toiled heavily and by the time he reached the downlands, he was tired. He had to rest for two days. But before he did, he made sure he was safe and now he and his dead friend, Halberd, were in an alcove. A fire had been lit and he was warming himself and the dead body as if it were alive. For a moment it seemed, Arathorn was in denial about the death of his friend.

He touched Halberd's long black hair and caressed it. "So you are gone, my friend. It is early of you to leave me so. We both agree to the point that we spent little time together yet we were close beyond doubt. Now, you are gone from me, far away, from where you shall never come back again into this world."

Such sadness was in his words that even the fire could not quell the darkness that engulfed the alcove.

"I will avenge you, be sure of that if nothing else. The orcs will be driven from the mountains. The Shadow will go away. We shall rise again to our former glory. This promise I make to you and to this I and my heirs shall abide. Hope will come to us then."

He closed his eyes and cried, tears dropping down his cheeks. He was thus when a voice he heard, mocking like.

"A man of the Dunedain? Crying? This is a thing unheard of."

Arathorn opened up and saw the Twins, Elladan and Elrohir. They were the sons of Lord Elrond of Imladris. They were here.

"Lord Elladan? Lord Elrohir? How come?" asked Arathorn.

"Do you think we will sit idly by when you Rangers declare war upon the Shadow in the East? The orcs of the Mountains were lured out and many were killed. Some fled northward, probably to round about the mountains of Angmar and so on the way Gundabad. But they are being followed. Time will tell whether they are killed or no. After the battle, we were leaving south to our home when we came upon your tracks. We followed it to here." replied Elladan.

Arathorn bowed to the Twins. "It is good you come. Halberd is dead."

Elladan and Elrohir looked at Halberd. "We are sorry for your loss. May his soul rest in peace. But this is not the time to tarry. Orcs, however few, are still about. We came upon a small camp in the west. A company of ten or twelve. We were weary and did not want to give battle. The first time we felt such a thing. There was also a huge troll. Perhaps they come from the Ettenmoors some distance north of here. That's trollfells we are told." said Elrohir.

Arathorn nodded. "I see the wisdom in your words. Let us go then. I need to get Halberd to Tualdor."

The Twins nodded. "Then you would need horses. Perhaps we could supply you with those. We walk to Rivendell then."

Arathorn said, "Aye."

"Then come. Let us leave this alcove and go southward where it is safer. With the burden you carry, we will be slow." Elladan said.

Arathorn nodded. His face was sad still, weeping inside for the loss of his dear friend.

As they walked through the forest lands that had just begun while they crossed into Rhudaur, Elladan said, "Tell me, friend, did you learn anything?"

Arathorn looked at the Twins. He could tell them, he trusted them. When he was a child, for a time he was fostered in Rivendell and the brothers had trained him in elven ways along with Lord Glorfindel. "The Orcs were in fear. The Captain was furious with one who had let his company pursue the Rangers. He spoke of the Enemy."

Elladan remarked then. "So, this is just not a mindless dabble of orcs as we thought then. Our father thought so. What did they want with the West?"

"A group of orcs would care nothing but fun in pillaging and burning our villages. But this time, they were searching for something. Jewels, we found them carrying it back into the mountains a few days back. Not ordinary jewels, royal ones. The Captain was talking about Sauron and how he would be angry with them if they found not the Heir of Isildur."

Elladan and Elrohir looked a little alarmed. "Father hinted so. Clearly, Sauron has not forgotten the line of Isildur. He believes maybe that the line of Isildur still survives and roams the wild regions of Eriador despite the ruin brought upon it by his servant, the Witch King of Angmar. If he finds out the Heir still lives and by which we mean you, then his war will come soon. We must not let him find out, put a kinker in his plans."

"But how? We do not have the numbers and the fortress in Mirkwood is strong to assail. The Council will not approve of such a large scale war. In any case, the orcs do not know about me yet. I made sure of that when I killed them."

"Are you sure you were not seen when you left?"

"I am pretty sure. No orc remained in the hold."

Elladan looked convinced but Elrohir looked still doubtful.

"We must reach Rivendell. Word of this must reach father's ears. Then we can hold a small council and debate what we have to do. Maybe it is time."

"Time for what Elladan?"

"Time for your race to declare yourself. Time for you to rise above all your forefathers since the days of Elendil."

"Come now, Arathorn, son of Arador, we must hasten through the forests. Rivendell is not so far. Once the Council is done, you may return home. We will make sure your friend reaches Tualdor as early as possible."

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Two days later, they were in the elven halls of Imladris. The body of Halberd was being taken to Tualdor. A group of Rangers and elves had volunteered for the task. Such a memorial. His spirit would be glad.

But now they had important matters to discuss. Arador was too far to call and urgency required the matter be debated fast. In a small hall, there were five people. Lord Elrond, Lord Glorfindel and the Twins along with Arathorn.

Arathorn was made to recount his tale again and as he spoke about Sauron's orders to find the Heir of Isildur, Lord Elrond stood up.

"So, Sauron is looking for Isildur's heir. This is what I have feared along when I heard of orcs and goblins advancing ever westward. If he does find that the line still exists, then doom will come to us. He knows about the elves of the north and he will know that we know that the line exists. His war on Rivendell will come swiftly then and there will be nobody to help us. For Sauron would have decimated every kingdom surrounding the Anduin and nobody has now the strength to repel him. The Shadow in Mirkwood grows and I foretell great evil will come off it."

"Ever Mithrandir sought for action against the dark fortress but we have done naught. We all heeded Saruman's counsel and in doing that, we have delayed. Mithrandir has told us the shadow in Mirkwood is indeed Sauron who has returned. And now we know, he not only searches for Isildur's Bane but also his heirs. If he comes to know of it, doom is certain and the North will never be safe and free again." remarked Glorfindel.

"Perhaps the time has come, father." said Elladan.

Lord Elrond looked at his son and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Time for what?" asked Glorfindel.

"Time to reforge the Sword of the King. Time for the Dunedain to declare themselves. Time for them to march to war against the Enemy." replied Elrohir.

"We do not have the numbers to do so." said Glorfindel.

"We do not, that I know, but that is not what I meant. I have a plan, father, if you may."

Lord Elrond nodded.

"Arathorn, you must go to Tualdor and bring these words to Arador. Your people must multiply. Ask your men to bed their wives more often. Make more children. The spring this year might be bountiful. Your men must grow in strength. We do not attack Dol Goldur till some time. When you deem the time is right, you claim the kingship of Gondor. Thus you shall unite the free peoples of Middle Earth."

Arathorn looked with his face in shock. "The Council of Gondor has already rejected my forefather, Lord Arvedui's, claims. Why should they accept mine?"

"You still are the line of Isildur. Besides, you are also of the line of Ondoher who was once the King of Gondor. Your claims are strong, my friend."

"Those very reasons were part of the claim my forefather put before their Council. Why would it be different this time?"

"Gondor is still a kingdom of Numenor, my friend Arathorn. Now it is kingless. The Winged Crown awaits one of the line of Elendil and now is the right time to do so. Think about it, Arathorn. You must convince your father."

Arathorn nodded, his head bowed.

"Even then, Elladan, it will take time. What do we do about the orcs that constantly harry our lands?" asked Glorfindel.

Elladan smiled. "We empty their strongholds in the Mountains. We make sure none of the minions of Sauron get to the West. We watch upon the passes."

Lord Elrond raised his hand. "Elladan's plans make sense. The time nears, Glorfindel, when the Lost People must rise."

"So be it, my lord. I shall convey the same to my father."

"Lord Arador is wise. He will heed the counsels of my father." said Elrohir.

"Hope he does." said Elladan.

Lord Elrond smiled, "Leave to Tualdor then, Arathorn. You have much to do."

Arathorn bowed and said, "Yes, my lord. That I shall do. I will leave now."

Lord Elrond laughed. "Surely, time is of the essence but not that you have to hurry. The night already settles on the outward lands. Leave at dawn for the sun brings hope, as believed by men."

Arathorn smiled. "Aye."

Then they all walked out of the room into a silvery glade under the twinkling stars.

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	8. Chapter - 7: The Dunedain Are Strong

**CHAPTER – 7: THE DUNEDAIN ARE STRONG**

A fortnight later to the small council where great plans were made, Arathorn reached the secret settlement of Tualdor. There he was greeted by many of the Rangers who had given battle to the orcs in the northern wilderland. "Hail" they all shouted. Their cries were that of victory. The orcs had been emptied and few left in their holds to rot and Arathorn had learned what he could.

Arathorn only nodded at each of their hails, not speaking a word. Great things were weighing on his mind, the plans of the Twins to hold back the Enemy for a while and the need for his father to claim the kingship of Gondor, but most of all, it was the death of his dear friend. He hoped to get more news of him. He wished for nothing else but to visit the place where Halberd was buried.

He would have gone sooner but he had to see his father first, Arador, chieftain of the Dunedain. He had to speak to his father of what had transpired on his quest.

The clock ticked fast and in no time he was standing in front of his father's house, now decorated with flowers and jubilant lights. It was a welcome party, he knew. The Dunedain seldom had moments of joy but whenever they had, it was short lived. Then, let them have it. They deserved it.

His father came out laughing and hugged him tight as father would a son. For an old man, he had great strength in him; so much that Arathorn almost squirmed but he was happy to see his father again. For five complete minutes, Arathorn was held tight by his father. The Dunedain around them smiled happily and a crowd gathered around them. In the crowd was Gilraen too looking at Arathorn without her eyes blinking and when it did, it was the blink of care and love with the hair of her eyelids wet and teary, not because she was sad, because she was happy Arathorn had returned safe and sound. Dirhael did notice that as he was often wont to. He was a protective father and according to him, Gilraen was not of an age yet. She was a child to him still. He did not approve of Gilraen's love for Arathorn; he wanted to shake her up so she would not look only at Arathorn but he could do nothing in front of a whole medley assemble around.

Arador finally released Arathorn from his grasp. The old chieftain was in tears almost. "Come" he said to Arathorn, "Come inside. We must talk. You have done much and endured much more."

Arador beckoned him and so he followed into the house. Arador led him to the same room and already inside were Elthain, Rick but instead of Halberd, Dirhael had been brought in.

"Have a seat, men of the Council." said Arador.

When everyone had taken their respective seats, Arador began. "Arathorn, my son, has been successful I deem in what I intended him to do and that is to learn what he can of the Enemy. That he has done and moreover, even Lord Elrond of Rivendell is aware of the matter and has promised us help. I want to hear the firsthand account of your quest, Arathorn. We have heard it from the messengers of Imladris but it is best we hear from you."

So Arathorn told them what he had to tell, exactly as he had relayed at Rivendell to Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel. Everyone looked alarmed and with their eyes bulged outward as he narrated his tale. When he had finished, all had fallen silent with their eyes looking at the crimson red table.

After a brief moment, Arador rose and looked at Arathorn. "So it is true then. This is what we have feared for a long time. So, Sauron is looking for the Heirs of Isildur. We must not let him find us. If he does so, it will become terrible for everyone in the North and as like as not, he will gather his army and attack us all, Eriador and Rivendell both alike. For he knows that Rivendell is in on our secret. Perhaps the Twins are right. Perhaps the time has come for us to declare ourselves and strike at Sauron while he still is unprepared. If he is left to idle, I fear then we might not be able to displace him and send him back to his right places unless some strange fortune could save us. But to wait for such fortune to come by would be folly, I deem. I think, in this we must heed Lord Elrond's counsels. He has always given us good counsel and he is elven wise. It would not do us good if we put aside what he asks of us for Lord Elrond has always been sympathetic to our cause."

The other members nodded.

"Then we must do what Lord Elrond bids us to do. We must grow and now the winter gives way to spring. We must multiply and become strong if we are to confront the Enemy. Our borders can be protected. The elves will help us. We will do little war and only a few will go forth to gather the news of the land."

"But if the orcs come back?" asked Rick.

"Even they will not attack so soon, now that they know us. It will still take them some time to re-organize and get back to their caves. Yes, it might take them faster for we know not whether Sauron has received news of our attack on his minions or whether he knows that you were in the caves, Arathorn. If He comes to know that you had overheard the conversation, it is true he might move to attack us but even that would take him some time. After the dwarven rampage in the Mountains, there have seldom been more numbers of those foul vermin. They had grown yes but not to sufficient numbers. Even Sauron has to wait a little while and when he does attack if he does, we must have the numbers at least to stall him while Rivendell comes to our aid. So are we one on this?"

All nodded. "Then go. Start now. Spread this word among the Rangers. Keep aside all tasks and look to your loved ones. Hone them, train them. Plough the fields so we may have enough stock. Get the word to Nithiel too and other camps in the south. Ask the Wandering Companies to stay alert of any evil presence. I will send word to Rivendell soon enough."

All nodded and bowed their heads to Arador, their lord. Then everyone rose and went except Arathorn who stayed back.

Arador looked at him and smiled. "You have done well, son and now you must rest. Stay here in Tualdor. Go nowhere."

Arathorn nodded and turned to go.

Then he stopped. For he heard Arador call him again. "Son, you need to settle down too. Perhaps I could find you a wife suitable. There are many here or in other places whose lines remain true to Numenor. I only need your assent and if you have anything to tell me, anybody you loved with your heart and if she would be your desire, you are free to do so."

Arathorn stayed silent.

Arador put his fingers to Arathorn's cheeks. "Stay not silent, son. You are in love then. Silence betrays most emotions. Who is it?"

"Gilraen, daughter of Dirhael."

Arador smiled. "Gilraen is a good choice but she is not of marriageable age according to Dunedain customs. But if it is your wish, then you may pursue her but if and only your favor is returned."

Arathorn nodded.

Arador looked. "My wishes are with whoever you choose and with you also but I doubt Dirhael would wish you well if you choose to pursue Gilraen. He still thinks of her as a child and he is protective enough and he would be right to be so. Think hard and if you have any doubts in your heart, do not be afraid to speak yourself."

"Since when I have been afraid of anything, father?"

"I know you are a brave man. You have faced dangers that even Dirhael has not. But love is a fickle thing, son. It can make you feel afraid of some things which you would not under normal circumstances be."

Arathorn looked grave enough but Arador laughed. "Be not so serious now. It does not look good on you. Go now and sleep for you have not slept comfortably for days unless in Rivendell but that was a short time and you were pressed with many cares. Go now and rest and think less of the matters herewith spoken. Forget all nightly noises and let your mind and body rest."

Arathorn bowed and went out of the room. Arador however turned grave and unfolded a map. Lighting a candle, he began to make his plans.


	9. Chapter - 8: The New Year Feast

**CHAPTER – 8: THE NEW YEAR FEAST**

**_disclaimer: some dialogs, the exchanges between ivorwen and dirhael are not mine, they have been taken from LOTR Appendices: A Tale of Aragorn and Arwen._  
**

YEAR 2930 T.A

Year 2929 had ended and the New Year had begun. The encampment of Tualdor was in an uproar. A celebration was in order. The winter was chill but not as chill. The spring was coming to life soon but the Dunedain had not waited for it. It was two months since Arathorn had returned from the journey east and the watchful peace had begun. There were no rumors from the east, no dark news. Messages were being sent to Rivendell and back. The days were becoming brighter and the sun shone hot. The New Year marked the beginning of a spell of peace.

There were now many women who were pregnant with child ever since the word was spread. The Dunedain had decided to grow in numbers. Arador was happy with the outcome and his plans were being made. Few Rangers were being sent forth to gather the news of the land while he knew that the elves of Rivendell were keeping watch on their eastern and northern borders, looking for any sign of activity from the Enemy in the east.

A huge feast was taking place in the encampment. Tables were laden with platters of food. Huge barrels of ale rolled in through the gates. Children were playing, making merry noises, shouting and laughing and running. The Rangers were enjoying their silver mugs of ale while their wives chattered and gossiped and laughed.

Arathorn walked about the settlement happily. These two months he had been on very few rangings and the ones he had gone to were pretty near. All the time he had he spent with his father discussing great plans or with Gilraen who he loved now. He had loved her from the first sight. He wished her father would grant them their wish.

Gilraen knew Arathorn was her man the moment he had rescued them from the orc ambush. She would sneak out of her house and they would meet in the fields and gather the winter harvest together. And when they had done, they would drop their baskets and kiss each other passionately. They would laugh together, talk together and Arathorn would sometimes pursue her over the fields. She would tease him and he her. Arathorn would always have the best time of his life and he knew Gilraen enjoyed his company too.

All this was known to Dirhael for he had many friends. Some would sight the two lovebirds in the fields and would report, just to get Dirhael's favor. Gilraen, when she returned in the late evening, would be rebuked by her father. He would scold her at first and when Gilraen would huff and sit in a corner by the window looking outside, perhaps for a peek of Arathorn moving across. Then her mother Ivorwen would come and pacify her and talk her sweet. She would then smile a little and go to her father and try to convince him. Dirhael would just look and stay silent. He would stroke her hair and then shaking his head, he would go outside to look at the moon and the stars.

Ivorwen did not know what to do. She was torn between the love for her husband and her daughter. She knew her daughter would be heartbroken if her desires were not fulfilled but she did not have the strength to face her husband. Her husband was right in his own ways. Gilraen was hardly of marriageable age. She was too young. But there was also a foresight in her mind and she approved of Gilraen and Arathorn.

Now, at the feast, Arathorn could not see Gilraen. He asked the women of her whereabouts. No one knew. When at last he asked Ivorwen, she told Gilraen was crying and was in her house. When asked why, she fell silent.

Arathorn knew why. The number of times he had decided to confront Dirhael of their relationship, he had failed. He could not gather the strength to ask him. Every time he would try and every time he would return without asking. Every day Gilraen would pester him to ask her hand in marriage and every day he would go to do so, only to be stared at by Dirhael. He knew he had failed her many times. Perhaps that is the reason Gilraen was sad and she would be right to do so.

Ivorwen had not said where. The houses, for the most part, were empty. Everybody was outside, relishing in their moments of joy and happiness. Gilraen would not be in the house. But he thought he should seek out Dirhael first and today, finally, ask Gilraen's hand. He would do it, whatever the outcome. He raced across the celebrations, rejecting the ale offered to him by many, courteously telling them no.

Ivorwen, after Arathorn was gone, sought out Dirhael.

"Stop opposing your daughter's choices, my lord." said Ivorwen.

"Our daughter is young, Ivorwen. She cannot marry at her age. That is not the Dunedain custom. You know how we have stood by our customs. They are ancient, my lady, come from the West themselves. Moreover, Arathorn is a stern man of full age, and will be chieftain sooner than men looked for; yet my heart forebodes that he will be short-lived." replied Dirhael.

Ivorwen, who was foresighted in her own rights, said, "The more need of haste! The days are darkening before the storm, and great things are to come. If these two wed now, hope maybe born for our people; but if they delay, it will not come while this age lasts."

Dirhael knew that generally Ivorwen's foresights had merit. He could not refuse this counsel of hers. He nodded. "So be it then, my lady. I shall not oppose it. Against my heart it is and against our customs but if you deem it right, I am no one to oppose. I shall seek out Arathorn myself."

Saying, he went away in search of Arathorn.

Arathorn was tired. He had searched the whole settlement, everywhere he knew Dirhael would be if he was not in the celebration. He had failed, again. He returned back to the throng. Men were taking their wives to dance and children were raising their hands and jumping on their feet.

Arathorn wished he had Gilraen to dance with. His heart beat faster.

"I hear you have been looking for me." said a rough voice.

Arathorn turned to face Dirhael.

Arathorn was opening his mouth to talk when Dirhael raised his right hand. "I know what you are going to ask of me. Listen to me now, son of Arador and do not speak. You saved us from the orcs and for that you have our gratitude, mine and my family's. We owed you. I owed you for the rescue. My swords are yours to command, my service at yours. But I did not owe my daughter to you."

Arathorn had his eyes to the ground, knowing he would never get Gilraen now.

Dirhael looked at him. "But my wife is gracious to accept you and Gilraen together. She believes in her heart that great hope will spring off you and my daughter if you both are to be wed. Her counsels are not in vain and you shall wed my daughter. May it be soon. You both have my blessings and my wife's."

Arathorn looked happier now. He did not think this would have gone well.

"Thank you, lord Dirhael. I love your daughter. You must know that."

"That I know. Now go, cheer up my daughter, youngling. She has been crying ever since we exchanged words."

Arathorn bowed and passed Dirhael by when Dirhael caught him by his hand. "If anything happens to my daughter while under your care, you shall have me to answer to. Remember that."

Arathorn nodded.

Dirhael smiled. "Go now. Gilraen awaits you at the house."

Arathorn bowed again and left for Gilraen's house which he soon reached.

He saw Gilraen peeping through the window. She smiled a little as he approached. Before he could knock on the door, it was opened and she rushed out hugging Arathorn in a tight embrace.

Arathorn smiled and Gilraen was crying out of joy. "Your father agreed to our union, Gilraen. We can be together now."

Gilraen released him and her happiness did know no bounds. "That's very nice to hear, my lord Arathorn. Come, we should seek now your father's blessings."

Arathorn laughed. "That would invite no trouble. Yes, let us go."

And so, Arathorn and Gilraen sought Arador who was laughing amidst the Dunedain. "Father" he called.

Arador looked at him. He saw his son had his hands clasped tightly with Gilraen's. He smiled.

"So Dirhael finally gives his blessings."

Arathorn nodded.

"And now you come to have mine."

Arathorn nodded and Gilraen was blushing red.

"That you have. May the Valar bless you both."

And then Arador turned towards the crowd. "Listen, Men of the West, Lord Dirhael gives his blessings to a new couple. Arathorn and Gilraen want to wed and their union has been accepted. They shall be wed soon. In the joy of this, let the feasts continue for they shall be one soon."

The Dunedain yelled out loud. There were many voices of congratulations. Arathorn stood smiling along with Gilraen as the Dunedain honored them with beautiful white flowers.

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	10. Chapter - 9: A Blessed Wedding

**CHAPTER – 9: A BLESSED WEDDING**

Now that they had been blessed, the preparations for their wedding had begun. Invitations had been sent abroad to other settlements, to Lindon and to Rivendell. The wedding was being made a huge affair. It was scheduled to be fifteen days after the New Year feast. Tents were being pulled up and tables and round stools were being placed all around. The harvest was being gathered and the women set about cooking different kinds of food. The Wandering Companies began arriving at Tualdor. One such company was accorded the biggest tent of all, the company of Gildor Inglorion and the wood-elves who followed him.

The next day there was a huge caravan from Rivendell, escorted by the lancers of Rivendell and at their helm were Lord Glorfindel and the twin sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir. The majesty of them could not be missed by the Dunedain and all looked in awe at them. Then there was a company of elven riders from Lindon. It was headed by Sylvan, an envoy from Cirdan the Shipwright who begged pardon for not being able to make it to the wedding, saying he was too old to travel so far and he was loth to leave the side of the Sea, but he sent blessings to the couple.

They were all welcomed in person by Lord Arador himself with Arathorn by his side. The elves patted Arathorn's back and the sons of Elrond hugged him tight. Merry was the atmosphere around the encampment. Musicians trumpeted upon their harps, singers sang different songs, both elvish and in the Westron tongue. They spoke of the West, of the rise of Numenor and the Last Alliance. The Dunedain laughed and cried. Their joy knew no bounds.

Many wooden poles were delved deep into the ground and they were all connected by strong ropes. On these ropes were hung many garlands and flowers of myriad colors. Mostly, lilies and roses, both pink and red. There was a big stage, covered by red carpets. There were many logs of dried wood and they now burned with a fire red and bright.

And then the day came. The sun shone bright and hot. Every one awaited outside, all clad in magnificent dresses. The women in their beautiful gowns looked prettier than ever. The children were all dressed in white with red roses in their pockets.

Arador stood beside the fire and constantly looked back at his great house. Suddenly the door clicked open and Arathorn, now looking as kingly as ever, clad in a silver white woolen coat underneath which was a black dress imbued with the design of a white tree and his hair tied with a clip at the back and a silver thread encompassing his forehead, came out of the house and in no moments he was beside Arador looking at the ensemble with a smiling face.

They all waited for Gilraen. Arathorn was more eager if anyone went by his look. He had not seen Gilraen for four days for it was a bad omen to see the bride before marriage.

A few minutes later, Gilraen arrived. She was clad in a beautiful gown, white in color from the top to bottom. A white headdress covered her long wavy hair which was tied in a knot at the back. A garland of white lilies was upon her headdress which made her look even more beautiful. She was escorted by her bridesmaids, three in number.

She looked into Arathorn's eyes for a moment and smiled. Arathorn stared back at her, relishing her beauty. He nodded and they now looked at Arador.

Arador smiled. In a raised voice, he said, "Today is the day when my son and Lady Gilraen are to be married. I wish them a very happy married life. Bless them with a good life ahead and may you both never have to face the storm. May you lead a happy life and give to use heirs who could continue our great legacy. May the Valar bless you and may Elbereth protect you."

He put forth his hands, each over Arathorn and Gilraen who bowed before him.

Arador continued. "Stand up. For now I declare you both man and wife in the name of the Valar in the West, in custom of the Numenor and the Dunedain, in the eyes of all those who are present here."

"All hail!" shouted the men around.

And then the men in the front formed two lines and a ring, standing a distance away from each other. The couple entered through the gap and bending down a little, ran through the ring and emerged at the other end. And then the music played. The tune was merry and the Dunedain danced to it. Such joy was not seen among them for many a year.

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	11. Chapter - 10: A TROLL ATTACK

**CHAPTER – 10: A TROLL ATTACK**

Six months to the day Arathorn and Gilraen were married, a ranger rode in to Tualdor. It was night and the stars twinkled bright in the sky. Arathorn was in his newly built house with Gilraen who was two months pregnant with child. Arathorn was a caring and a devout husband who looked after Gilraen well. He saw to it that Gilraen had everything she needs and treated her like a great queen. Ever since Gilraen was with child, he had been extra careful and extra caring.

He went on very few rangings, keeping himself to the settlements and the lands near it. He would only goto small council meetings when they were held and listen to the reports the Rangers brought in. In case he left, he would not go far and would return in three or four days. The longest had been a week.

The lands of Eriador were in peace. Even Rhudaur had reported no activity and it seemed that the Enemy had subsided. The elves were keeping watch on the eastern borders and everything seemed well. The spring was bountiful, there was a lot of harvest. The fields had been tilled and ploughed and crops had been grown. Peace had finally come and the Dunedain had begun to prosper and multiply. Until this day it seemed.

He was caressing Gilraen's sweaty forehead when a Ranger knocked on the door, tapping it with four times as was their wont. Four knocks usually meant urgent matter and he was required in Lord Arador's council. He looked at Gilraen and nodded. Gilraen smiled and said, "Go, my lord. Your father requires your presence."

Arathorn nodded. He put on his ranger coat and went away from the room, closing the wooden doors silently.

In not more than five minutes, he was in the council room. Arador was there and also Dirhael, Elthain and Rick. There was also the Ranger who had brought the news. He was panting, gasping for breath.

"Welcome, son. The Ranger brings us tidings of grave concern. We should all hear it in more detail. All I could hear out of his mouth till now has been that the enemy is near."

Arathorn looked at the Ranger seriously and said, "Speak of what ye must and then perhaps you could rest, for if this is news of the Enemy then we must know it quick."

The Ranger nodded. "I was on duty, lord. I am one of the North patrols. One such patrol had started after Lord Arathorn's wedding and I was a part of it. We went north as far as Fornost Erain which lies as desolate as ever. Nothing of consequence we learned. As you know, lord, we have been scouting every inch of Eriador as we can for any presence of the Enemy. The leader of my patrol, Perendur, thought it better to check our northernmost borders. He knew the elves were guarding the eastern borders but the northern borders were unchecked especially regions north of Bree and the North Downs. If the Enemy sought to bring his armies around the Mountains instead of through the Passes, then we would be hard pressed. So we checked as far as Fornost. There was no sign. We stayed around for as long as a month and then we left eastward and scouting the mountain ranges we reached the northern borders of Rhudaur. What we saw alarmed us. We were shocked to see the campfires around. We thought it was the elves but there were orc-cries. We were returning but we were a few leagues when we realized the enemy was following us and they were close. The next night they attacked us. We gave battle but we were too few. Soon, only I was left and I escaped the rout. But this is not everything, my lord. I think I saw a troll or two with them."

Arador looked grave and alert. "Can you predict how strong they are?"

"One hundred and fifty at least, lord."

Arador sighed. "Not too many, not too few either. I wonder what the orcs are doing here. We have had no message from the elves about any kind of breach. These orcs must have lain low somewhere. Anything else you learnt?"

"Yes, my lord. When we were on the ridge watching the campfires, I sneaked as near as I dared. One Orc Captain was speaking to another. The Heir of Isildur was their chief concern, my lord."

Arador looked alarmed. "Sauron is still searching for the Heir of Isildur then. And now he presses too hard. Something must have happened to stir him. His plans maybe far from ripe but he is moving fast. How far away are they?"

"Eighty leagues from here, my lord but they move fast. If we must take action, we must be faster."

Arador sighed.

Then the door opened and in came Elladan and Elrohir. They looked alert and alarmed.

Arador said, "This is a surprise, sons of Elrond. How come?"

"We bring word from the east. A huge company just breached through the east. They came over the High Pass and drove our ranks but we managed to kill their vanguard. The Enemy moves fast. We know not where they are right now and they are too many for us to pursue. We felt we must warn you." replied Elrohir.

"Thank you, Elrohir. We have already been warned. Our Rangers have been scouting north."

Elladan looked a little relieved.

"But they are quite near, sons of Elrond. Before you came, we were thinking about what to do with them."

"Kill them. What else?" said Elthain.

Arador smiled. "Too well do I know your thirst for battle, Elthain. Kill them we shall and we should before they come here upon us unawares. The storm is darkening upon us and we must weather it while we can. Eriador must be protected at all costs. How many have we here?"

"Some eighty. We could call upon help from the camps in the south but they would be late, my lord." said Rick.

Arador looked at Arathorn.

"Then we must give battle. We cannot tarry much. Orcs travel fast and they travel through the nights. We must all empty Tualdor, leaving only as much needed to guard it. That means we can take out only sixty of us."

"Too few." said Arador.

Arathorn nodded.

"Son, if the battle goes ill, you must flee westward. Seek Lindon." said Arador later.

Arathorn furrowed. "I will not leave you, father."

"Listen to me, the line must continue. We are the last scion of the House of Elendil. The line must survive. When you flee, take Gilraen with you and all of them here. In this you will obey me."

Arathorn looked at his father. "So be it, father. You are lord and your command is our duty. Fear not, father. We shall send them into the very abyss from whence they come."

Elladan smiled. "We brought thirty elves with us, my lord."

Elrohir chipped in. "And the company of Gildor Inglorion volunteers to fight. They are forty in number."

Arador said, "That is well, then. One hundred and thirty, we shall ride. Let the Company be ready in two hours."

And then he turned towards the Ranger. "Rest a while and then take two scouts with you. Learn of the Enemy's movements. Come back and report. We will be on the northward march. You will find us. May Elbereth protect you."

The Ranger nodded. "As you command, lord."

Saying, the Ranger left.

Two hours later, the host of the Dunedain was arrayed for battle. They were joined by the elves of Rivendell, all clad in light armor. As the host left through the Gate with Arador, Arathorn and the sons of Elrond at their helm, Gildor and his company reached them.

Gildor bowed to Company and so did his elves. "Gildor Inglorion bows to your lordship, Lord Arador. We offer you our service and more, aid in your battles against the Enemy."

Arador bowed back. "It feels good to know other folk fight beside us, Gildor Inglorion of the House of Finrod. You may fight beside us. We are pressed and Eriador needs to be protected. The lands are not safe."

Gildor smiled. "We are proud to fight alongside men once more."

"Then come, we must march fast and north is our road."

"To war!" shouted the men.

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They marched through the night and then they reached it. The Ranger who had ridden away to gather news returned with great haste. "They are near, my lord. Two leagues northward. They are moving pretty fast."

"They will be here in pretty less time." Arathorn said.

Arador nodded. "Dunedain, form your lines."

The Dunedain arrayed themselves in singular lines. Elves stood with them.

Elladan, Elrohir, Gildor, Elthain, Arathorn and Arador were in the front at the helm.

"Prepare your bows." shouted Elthain.

The Dunedain raised their great bows of yew, so did the elves.

Arathorn moved to the front and brandished his sword. The elven leaders were already prepared, nocking their arrows to their bows.

"Prepare to fire" Arathorn shouted.

The orcs were near and sighted them. And now they came at them, running with their stunted legs.

"Fire!" Elthain shouted.

A hail of arrows left their bows and struck the first lines of the orcs.

"Fire at will." shouted Arathorn.

Many orcs fell to the hail of arrows that met them. Elladan and Elrohir kept loosing their arrows and they were so quick that even the Dunedain archers marveled. Gildor and his elven host fired silver feathered ones that gleamed with the light of the moon.

The orcs were nearing, although now lessened in strength. Arador slew many and Arathorn cut through orcs like he would butcher meat. The swords of the Dunedain shined and they rushed forth into battle. The elves kept firing their arrows upon the orcs at the far end who kept falling.

"Push them northward. Push them." shouted Rick.

The men rushed with their swords down the slopes, cleaving orcs at will. And soon, the orcs were hard pressed and few were already running north, their eyes with fear. Arador was at the helm of the Dunedain.

Arathorn stayed where he was, listening into the night. "Father." He shouted but it was too late.

Two trolls came with their wooden maces, throwing away the men into the distance. One troll struck at Arador who by his strong reflexes had raised his sword to block the troll's mace. The other men tried to fire arrows but orcs came at them again.

The troll raised its mace and struck at Arador again who threw himself to the ground on his left. The mace missed him by inches.

The other troll was creating havoc upon the men. The elves kept firing arrows at the trolls.

"Aim at their eyes." Elladan shouted.

The elves aimed their bows at the second troll's eyes. "Fire." shouted Gildor.

A storm of arrows flew towards the troll who was sweeping aside the Dunedain. The troll grunted with pain as black blood oozed from its wounds. Silver feathered arrows were stuck in its eyes and blind with rage, it threw its mace and started stomping across the battleground.

Elf and man alike gave way to the second troll. The orcs were few and they always went to fight Arathorn blocking him, delaying him rushing to his father's aid.

Arador was growing weary. The troll kept striking at him. Arador kept blocking it. Arathorn was near but not so near.

"I am coming, father."

He cleaved another orc from head to loin and rushed forward and stabbed another through the stomach. His sword was wet with blood.

"No." he shouted.

The troll managed to strike Arador right in the face. Arador was thrown clashing into a tree and fell down to the ground, face below. He gasped for breath. His bones were broken. He looked up. He was in intense pain. The troll was nearing. He tried to get up. He could not. He knew his death was near. He would die anyways but first he would fell this troll. He tried to rise again but he fell. He was too weary and it was growing much painful.

The elves were sticking arrows into the troll now. Arathorn was right below its legs, cleaving its flesh. Me were fighting the remaining orcs or pursuing those who fled. The second troll was gone from the field.

The troll threw its mace and fell down to the ground, a storm of dust rising around it. Arathorn raised his sword and stabbed the troll's hide.

The troll gave a painful scream and life left it.

Arathorn removed the sword with great strength and rushed to his father who was now fallen.

Elladan and the other elves soon rallied around them. They looked then with sad eyes.

"Father, father" he screamed aloud.

There was no response. Arador's eyes were open and looked the sky but no words came from his mouth. Arathorn checked for any pulse but there was none. He had lost his father. "No" he cried.

Elladan put a hand upon his shoulder. "Come, my friend. We must bear the dead back to their families. Loss is heavy upon us. Men are hunting orcs in the woods and you have just lost your father. The grief is terrible, I understand."

Elrohir then said, "Your father died bravely, son of Arador and now it is upon you to lead your people. We all feel sorry for your loss."

Gildor looked at the fallen. "I knew Arador ever since he was a child. He was a brave man, braver than many I have met in the recent years. He fought well and died well but this is no place to grieve for the fallen. We must return. Let us bear the wounded and the dead back to the settlement. There we must prepare for them a funeral and wish them safe and hope they reach the halls of their fathers. Come, Arathorn, son of Arador."

Arathorn saw the wisdom in their words and found solace in them. He then built a bier from the dead wood around and placed his father upon it.

"We must return him to Tualdor." said Arathorn.

Then the whole company, now reduced in number, began their march south ward.


	12. Chapter - 11: A Funeral

**CHAPTER – 11: A FUNERAL, A COUNCIL AND AN APPOINTMENT**

The long months of joy the Dunedain had enjoyed were marred. Their lord Arador had left them to join his fathers and forefathers. It was but three hours that the Dunedain company who had left to do battle returned. Women covered their heads in their palms and wept as they looked at Arathorn at the helm of a wooden bier upon which now Lord Arador calmly slept.

The men who had remained looked in shock and many had their heads bowed in sadness, their eyes wet with small drops of tears. Some moaned, singing silent songs in their hearts.

Arathorn walked in the front. His face betrayed no emotions. With a straight face, he walked the road that ran from the gates to the Council House. Gilraen and the other women of her household stood there awaiting his return. When Gilraen saw the sleeping chieftain, she ran towards the bier as the Dunedain placed it on the ground.

She bent beside him and wept. "Like father he was to me. Now, I have lost him. Fate has denied him to me. I wished he would see his grandson who will be here soon. He once told me, my lord, he wanted to see and play with his grandson and now he is asleep and wakes no more." And then she cried.

Arathorn could do nothing to console her. He was distraught. Though tears did not come easily to his eyes, he still was weeping in his heart. Greater sadness he had not known. The death of his father was a blow to him. But he had to hold himself steady. He knew now a great burden would fall upon him – the burden of leading the Dunedain to hope and victory. But his mind ever questioned – what use was victory if the loss was dear?

Elladan was quick to come beside Gilraen and placed his hands on her shoulder. "Grief it is for the Dunedain this day though it is mingled with victory. The loss is dear, I know. Lord Arador has passed to the halls of his fathers and may he rest in peace. But we must not send him away crying. He would not want that. We must strong as that would make him happy. We must now do what he wanted to do. He wanted the Dunedain to be strong and that we shall, and we must if we are to weather the coming storms. Lord Arador would want us to fight."

Elrohir looked at them. "Do not grieve, O lady. Bid him goodbye with a smile. He fought and died with courage. Even though the grief must be great and the loss unbearable, we must hold ourselves strong." Then he turned towards the men, "O men of the west, grieve not this day for this is not the day when we cry for our loved ones. We send Lord Arador to the halls of his father with respect and glory, with smiles and love. We must give him a proper funeral."

The men shouted, "Aye!"

They bore the bier to an open ground. The bier they placed above a stockpile of wood. And then two servants came and poured two huge jugs of oil over the wood and the body.

Dirhael bore a huge wooden rod, its tip blackened with oil. He then lit the wooden rod and it burned with a great fire. Then, he handed it over to Arathorn. Arathorn received the wooden rod and walked past Dirhael. He first looked at his father's body and bowed. As he did, so did everyone who was present at the funeral.

"May he rest in peace." Arathorn shouted.

"Rest in peace" said the other men.

Then he lowered the burning rod and at the bottom of the wooden stockpile, he placed the burning end. Fire consumed the stockpile and the bier, turning Arador's body into ashes. Black smoke rose up into the air and it could be seen leagues away.

Arathorn dropped the rod and looked towards the elven twins and Gildor who had their heads bowed. And then he turned towards Dirhael who nodded his head.

The fire was still burning when the men returned to their village. Everyone returned back to their houses to spend what time they had with their loved ones. Arathorn took the Council members to the Council Room.

Elladan looked worried. "Arathorn, you must rest. The Council can be called tomorrow morning as the sun rises."

Gildor nodded. "Elladan is right, son of Arador. This is no time. You must get some sleep."

Arathorn looked at them. "There shall be no time for sleep until Sauron's minions are destroyed."

"So this is about vengeance then?" asked Elrohir.

"Nay, lord Elrohir, it is about retribution. Too long has the Enemy hunted us, too long have we dwelt in shadows. Like you said, it is time for us to declare ourselves. I mean to follow that plan."

"But, my lord, you must sleep. You are weary and the grief is too much to behold." said Elthain.

Arathorn smiled a little. "My heart I hath made strong ere it fall to grief, Elthain. It will falter no longer. Grief is past. I have lost my father. I will cry for his loss only when all our enemies are slain and driven from the lands."

"If we must talk then we must talk. I fear nothing we say is going to move this lord of the Dunedain. Stubborn he is but I merit his concerns. The Enemy is closer than we all feared." said Gildor.

Elladan and Elrohir nodded.

"Then the plan must be followed. In five years then I will speak to the Council of Gondor and lay my claim to its Throne. The winged crown is mine by rights and they shall not dare to oppose it. Once reunited, we can move against the Enemy."

"Five years it is then." said Elrohir, "But till then how do we keep Sauron away from Eriador? He sent a force this time and breached the eastern defenses. We have victory this day but with great loss. Next time would not be easier. Sauron will hear of his loss in the field of battle today if he has not already heard and he may move faster. We cannot predict his actions."

Elladan then said, "Then we must strengthen the eastern borders and hold the passes together. Both the Redhorn and the High."

"But we are too few, brother." said Elrohir.

Gildor Inglorion then said, "Many of the wandering companies roam the wide lands in the west. I will send word to them. They will come to your succor. Elves and men alike."

"I owe you much, Lord Gildor. This favor shall not go unreturned." said Arathorn.

Gildor laughed. "We must do what we can while we can. It would not do any of us any good if we sit idle and let the Enemy play his games. We must move our pieces and he will move his."

Elladan said, "Aptly put, Gildor. Wisdom it is then that we should protect our lands and keep the Enemy at bay while the Dunedain recuperate from their respite and be stronger than before. You must grow stronger. The fates have been hard on you and I fear it will be still but you must weather it. A young heir soon cometh into this dark world and I foretell he will bring hope to men."

"And that line we must all protect until it is needed no longer." said Elrohir.

Arathorn looked grave. I shall send some Dunedain who have gone southward east as soon as they return. Command them as you will, sons of Elrond."

"Aye!" said Elladan and Elrohir together.

"Now we must all sleep. It would not do us any good if we do not rest." said Gildor.

"But there is one decision to be made yet." said Dirhael, who was silent all along.

Elladan looked at him.

"The appointment of the Chieftain."

"That is pretty much clear, is not it, Dirhael? Arathorn is a son of Arador and the heir of Isildur. He is the Chieftain now." said Elrohir.

"So he is." said Dirhael. "But he must declare to the Dunedain tomorrow."

"Pray, do away with the appointment ceremony, Dirhael. There is much to do still." Said Arathorn.

"But it is custom, my lord."

"Customs you must follow, lord." said Gildor, who was now smiling.

"Then follow them I will."

"Surely, you did not mean to run away to the eastern borders in order to achieve your goals?" asked Elladan, laughing.

Arathorn laughed out too. "Surely not."

"You must stay here in the encampment. Do not risk anything much. And you have a baby coming. Take care of Lady Gilraen. That be now your duty." said Elrohir.

"Truly they speak." said Dirhael. "My daughter needs you at her side. I fear this loss maybe too much for her to bear and surely you would want to keep her grief away from her."

Arathorn nodded. "Yes indeed. Your daughter I love by my heart. I shall never leave her side. I beg your pardon if it must have seemed otherwise. I was being carried away."

Dirhael smiled. "Worry no longer. A fire burns in you. You have lost your father to the Enemy and it is only justified that you want retribution. That shows your love, Arathorn. Go now and sleep. As the sun rises, you shall be appointed."

Arathorn yawned and said, "Go now lords and rest. I need it too. We shall meet on the morrow."

The others nodded and wished each other a good night. Elladan said to Arathorn, "May Elbereth protect you and help you in your quest."

Arathorn replied, "Le Hannon"

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	13. Chapter - 12: BIRTH OF HOPE

**CHAPTER – 12: BIRTH OF HOPE**

1st March 2931 T.A.

It was but three hours since the sun had risen and Arathorn was anxious. It was not the Enemy who troubled him but it was his wife. Gilraen had been uncomfortable and in pain since yestereve and the healers could do little. They told Arathorn that Gilraen would be in labor soon and by the morn, a son would be born to them. The morn had come but there was still no news.

Arathorn paced, worried, in front of the house. He hoped Gilraen would be well. The camp was silent. Every household awaited the coming of the baby. Men came and bowed to Arathorn and then telling a word or two sought to alleviate his worries. Arathorn would smile back and saying he would not worry, would convince them.

Arathorn was loved by everyone. He would look deep into each and every problem of every household in the encampment. He would also go out and seek the settlements in the east and south. The lands were enjoying another long spell of peace and after his father's untimely death; there were no attacks or skirmishes reported from the East. The wandering companies were on high alert. Besides, there were now lots of children in Tualdor and other settlements. The Dunedain were growing strong at last.

This love for their chieftain brought the Dunedain together on this day. Everyone in Eriador now awaited with bated breath the arrival of the heir.

It was time now. Arathorn wanted to go inside the house but the healers had requested him not to. He would not interfere in their work. But he only wished Gilraen well.

A little less than a shrill cry he heard coming from the house. It was the sound of a baby crying. Excitement overtook Arathorn and he pushed open the door, rushing inside while the men awaited the good news outside, assembling upon the porch.

Arathorn looked at Gilraen who was now tired and her eyes were just narrowly open. She was looking at the old nurse who was holding the plump little baby in her hands like a cradle. Arathorn rushed to the nurse who handed the baby over to Arathorn.

The baby looked like him, he thought but in his complexion had gone by his mother. He smiled at the baby, swinging it from one side to the other. He held the baby thus while the nurse cleaned the baby's blood stained legs with a clean white towel.

Gilraen spoke then. "What would you name him, my lord?"

Her voice betrayed her weariness.

Arathorn looked at her and said, "Many names have I thought but I have decided upon one. He shall be named Aragorn."

"It is a kingly name." said a woman, wholly clad in grey. Arathorn had not registered her presence in the room as she was sitting on a stool in a quiet corner. It was Ivorwen, wife of Dirhael and mother of Gilraen.

"Thank you, my lady. But I foretell he shall be called by many names." said Arathorn.

"Your foretelling is not in vain, Lord Arathorn. Many names he will have but for me he will always be hope. For I also have a foresight. He will be the hope of the Dunedain and with him shall rise our race and if he fails, our race shall be doomed to the shadows."

"Dark words, Lady Ivorwen." said Arathorn.

"Remember, light comes only through darkness. Through shadows, he shall come to hope. Mark my words, lord."

Arathorn nodded and turned towards his wife. "You should sleep, lady. You are weary with your struggles and rest is needed."

Gilraen smiled weakly. "I will, my lord but first I must have a look at my son."

Arathorn returned her smile and said, "Look you shall and then sleep the better."

He handed over the baby to Gilraen who cuddled the baby tight and kissed on the forehead. Tears leapt through her eyes as she did so. "Hope you shall be also then and I shall love you more than I do myself, Aragorn, Isildur's heir."

The baby stopped crying as he heard that name and looked at his mother with bright piercing eyes.

Arathorn was happier than ever. At last an heir had come into the world and the line was getting stronger and preserved.

Ivorwen was happy too and said, "The baby Aragorn has come. Happy is the time indeed but you must make more babies, Arathorn. It is time the heirs had siblings. The line must be preserved."

Arathorn nodded.

"Now you must show the baby to your people as is the custom and declare the heir."

"So I shall." said Arathorn.

"Gilraen, I must show Aragorn to my people."

Gilraen smiled. "As you wish, my lord."

Saying she handed over Aragorn to Arathorn. Arathorn had one of his hands on the back of the baby's head and the other on the baby's back. He tried to make the baby smile a little but the baby kept a straight face.

Then he turned towards Gilraen and said, "Now goto sleep. May the Valar send you good dreams!"

Then he left the house with the baby Aragorn through the open door.

As soon as he came outside, the men shouted with joy and the women wept with tears of happiness.

Arathorn nodded and the guard beside him raised his hand, palm outward. The ensemble fell silent. Arathorn smiled and said, "Hail, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. I give you Isildur's heir, of the line of Elendil of Numenor."

"All hail!" shouted the men around. Some shouted "Isildur's heir" at the top of their voice. Such a clatter was not heard in the settlement since Arathorn's birth.

Dirhael then came forward, a huge smile upon his face. "Let me hold my grandson."

Arathorn bowed and handed over the baby to Dirhael.

Dirhael held the baby high and the sun hit the baby's back. "You are the hope of our people and so you shall shine with the light of the sun. You will do great deeds and through you, succor shall come to us. This I foretell."

The men shouted again. "Aragorn, Aragorn" was the loud cry.

Arathorn looked at the baby and he was now proud. Then as Dirhael kissed baby Aragorn on the forehead, he felt his Aragorn would be loved by many.

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	14. Chapter - 13: TIDINGS UPON DARK WINGS

**CHAPTER – 13: TIDINGS UPON DARK WINGS**

YEAR 2932 T.A.

Winter had come to Eriador and the cold was settling. The Dunedain wished for no snow for if it did, not only had they to stock more crops and save them from the chill but also they had to counter wolves. It was rumored that wolves were sighted in the east in southern Rhudaur and regions north of erstwhile Eregion. They had not dared to come so far west as Tualdor but who knows? Since the Necromancer was strengthening his hold upon the north and his evil will moving all creatures of the dark against the West, the wolves were bound to come deeper into Eriador. This they did not want. The elves were guarding the east but they were not too many. Many elves were now leaving the shores of Middle Earth, tired of her wars and agony.

It was already the month of December. One and a half year had passed in the wide world since little Aragorn had been born. This time was the most happiest among the Dunedain. It was filled with laughter and the spring harvest was good. Flowers bloomed in the fields and the trees bore many fruits. Even meat was plenty and the hunters hunted many things. Children played and grew.

Little Aragorn had plenty of company. He bonded well with many children and of his age, there were many. But he grew closer mostly to one other child. He was five years elder to him and he went by the name of Halbarad. Halbarad was a friendly young child and was the nephew of Halberd. His father had died upon one of the rangings and Halberd and his other relatives had looked after him after his father was gone. He bonded well with Aragorn and would share his toys with him but which Aragorn managed to break. Halbarad would never get angry at little Aragorn for little Aragorn would always come back and give him a flower he plucked from one of the fields. Halbarad was there when Aragorn began to stand on his own feet. He was there when Aragorn began to walk short distances. He would play hide and seek with Aragorn and Aragorn would always find him. In that last one year, Halbarad had become Aragorn's constant companion.

Arathorn had seen this and was most happy that Aragorn had been bonding heavily with the children in the settlement. When Aragorn was one year and three months old, little black hair began to sprout on his scalp. It was wavy and silky and it had now grown faster into short curly strands.

Gilraen would spend time with Aragorn most of the time and he watched her feeding him, playing with him and he would be content, bringing a smile upon his face. Then Gilraen would look up and return his huge smile.

Aragorn was but one year and five months when he spoke his word. "Papa." He had cried. Arathorn was the most happy that time.

Though his household was happy, he was not. There were constant reports of wolves being sighted in the south and the east. He was beginning to get worried. The Necromancer was tightening the noose from the east. He must be knowing the heirs of Elendil still live and he was still intent upon finding them. The Wandering Companies brought him much news. And they were all grave. Goblins were multiplying in the Misty Mountains and they said there were giants too though they had never seen them. Dark creatures were abroad they said. There were skirmishes in Mirkwood and on the borders of Lothlorien. The Necromancer was testing the strength of the North, Arathorn deemed.

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At Imladris too, the situation was grave. Lord Elrond sat upon a rock on his knees and looked into the cold waters of the Bruinen at its springs. In the water he saw many things that troubled him and when he returned by pebbled paths to the last homely home, he called immediately Lord Glorfindel to his room.

"What is it?" asked Glorfindel. "You look grave."

"Many thoughts have come to me of late and not all are good. The evil stirs in the East and its malice is now directed at the Dunedain. I do not know what is at hand but if we move not sooner, then many things shall fall apart. Our plans to secure this world so it be rid of all evil and shadows rests highly upon one thing and that is the preservation of one kingly line of Elendil and Numenor. I fear our plans run at high stakes now and the Enemy has been redoubling his efforts. Wolves have been sighted far more westward as you know about but goblins have been multiplying in the East. Soon the road through the High Pass will not be safe and Mirkwood will be segregated. The Enemy moves fast."

Glorfindel gave a silent nod and then said, "We must drive away the evil in Dol Goldur. We must do so while we still have the numbers to do so. We must seek the advice of Mithrandir who has ever implored us to do this thing and it is the right thing to do."

Elrond nodded. "Yes. But even our numbers are few to assail the stronghold in the Greenwood. The Dunedain cannot help us and Lindon is almost gone."

"All that remains is Lothlorien." said Glorfindel.

Elrond sighed. "I fear they cannot. We hear of battle upon their northern borders and ever they strive for the mastery of the Great River."

Glorfindel shook his head. "Evil times are now coming. Either the Shadow succeeds and we all fall into darkness or we rise to our final test."

Elrond then said, "Nay! The final test has not yet come. For I fear even if we attack the dark stronghold, Sauron shall be driven not destroyed and after a brief respite, it shall take shape once again."

"But if we attack, the Shadow can be driven out. And for now, the lands of the North would be rendered safe and the line of Elendil preserved."

"No, Lord Glorfindel. For I fear, Sauron shall keep hunting for the heirs of Elendil. He will bury them deep into the ground before he ever sees a king return to the throne of Gondor."

Glorfindel sighed. "Then we must seek to protect the line ourselves. If we cannot attack Dol Goldur then we must hide the line. Our plans must be postponed and only when the time becomes ripe again, should the true lineage be revealed to the South."

"That will not be for a long time yet, Glorfindel."

"Yes."

"Send for my sons, then. They shall take the message to the Dunedain. They shall speak to Arathorn and implore him to send his wife and child to Imladris. I know him well. He will heed my counsel."

"I hope he does. It is for their own good."

Elrond nodded. "He will. Send for my sons."

After a brief moment, Elladan and Elrohir arrived in the room.

They bowed to their father and to Glorfindel. "What is it, Father?" asked Elladan.

"Grave tidings have reached us. The Enemy is beginning his move. And his first target would be to strike at the Dunedain while they are weak. The lands are in peril and we have not the strength to meet him in open battle. Not now. Our allies are imperiled and we cannot count upon any aid. So I need you both to seek the settlements of the Dunedain and find Arathorn. I need you to ask him to send his wife and his child, who I believe is called Aragorn, hither to Imladris. Tell him the matter needs to be urgently looked into."

Elladan and Elrohir nodded. "As you wish, father."

They bowed again and left the room.

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YEAR 2933 T.A.

Fifteen days later to the day when the small council took place in the rooms of Lord Elrond, the twins reached Tualdor. The Dunedain welcomed them with shouts and hails and bows.

"Sooner, I shall be tired of bending my head." said Elrohir.

Elladan laughed. "Then you need not. Just wave your hand."

"I shall tire of that too at a point."

"Then you are no elf, if you tire so quick. In fact, the way you say it, you sound weaker than a mortal."

Elrohir slapped Elladan upon his back.

"Ouch!"

"You are no elf then either, brother. An elf is not hurt so quickly."

Elladan laughed. "Stop your whining. Look, cousin Arathorn comes out of the house to greet us. Get ready to bow, brother."

Elrohir smirked.

Arathorn shouted as he stood on the porch. "Long have we awaited you and now you come upon a dark wind. Its January already and the yester year has already passed."

"We had business in the East, cousin. It was after a long time even we returned to Imladris. And then father called us." said Elrohir.

"So I presume you have come to deliver Lord Elrond's message."

"Aye! From warriors to messengers. What luck!" laughed out Elrohir.

Elladan smirked. "Shut up, Elrohir."

Arathorn laughed. "So much love and for that you fight."

"We are not fighting, cousin, just playing along." remarked Elrohir.

"Aye! Come inside now. The sun is hot enough for the delivery of a message."

"Anar matters not, son of Arador." said Elrohir.

"Aye! You are the children of the Sun." said Arathorn.

"If your chides at each other have stopped then can we move and deliver what we were told to do?" asked Elladan.

"Why are you so sober? Do you not see we are having some fun?" asked back Elrohir.

"Fun ye shall have when our mother is avenged." When Elladan said this, a strange light shone in his eyes.

Elrohir became grave. "Our mother will be avenged, Elladan. Do not for a moment think I have forgotten. But one can be light hearted and yet be intent upon pursuing one's goals. You seem to have forgotten that."

Elladan began to speak when he was interrupted by Arathorn. "A fight on the porch. Is this my good fate to see two elven brothers fight?"

Elrohir and Elladan laughed. "Not a fight, cousin, a difference of opinion." said Elrohir.

Elladan laughed again.

"What is up with you?" asked Elrohir.

Elladan smiled. "Got you both, didn't I?"

Elrohir slapped Elladan's back again. "I shall get you back soon enough."

Arathorn laughed. "Now care to come inside, my lords."

Elladan and Elrohir nodded.

When they were inside the Council Room, Arathorn looked at them and began, "So what does Lord Elrond have to say that is so important that he sends you two as his messengers?"

"Grave tidings, cousin. The Enemy moves fast. Our plans must be postponed, father says. The line must be preserved and he so implores you to consider sending Lady Gilraen and your son, Aragorn to Imladris for protection. For a time, little Aragorn would be fostered there as were all lords of the Dunedain. The wolves howl upon your borders and goblins multiply in the mountains. Dark creatures roam the wilderland and what we thought once was safe is safe no longer. Consider this wise counsel, lord. The time is not ripe as we thought and our counsels are shaken. The Enemy is closer than we thought." said Elladan.

Arathorn started looking grave. "I shall consider it."

"Then give it not much time for we have so little of it. By the morn you should decide. We shall stay here and escort your wife and son back to Imladris." said Elrohir.

Arathorn nodded. "You have had a long journey. Rest now. I shall speak of this to my wife and other members of the Council."

Elladan nodded.

"Your quarters will be prepared soon enough."

"We shall roam the fields till it is done and perhaps we might meet little Aragorn."

Arathorn smiled. "He is outside. You will find him with Halbarad."

Elladan said, "Ah! Then we shall seek him out."

Saying, the Twins left the house, leaving Arathorn to ponder over the state of affairs.

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	15. Chapter - 14 : A Grave Fall

**CHAPTER – 14: A GRAVE FALL**

It was morning and the sun had risen in the east two hours before. The Elderly Council had assembled.

Arathorn looked grave and began, "The sons of Elrond come with a counsel. It is as wise as always but a doubt gnaws me."

"Tell us what you wish to know, Lord Arathorn and then we would decide." said Elthain.

"Lord Elrond perceives a great danger and wants us to disband this settlement and move westward. Also, he wants us to send Gilraen and little Aragorn to Rivendell."

There was much murmur among the Council members.

"Why? Does he not speak as to what danger it is that besets us?" asked Elthain.

"The nature of the danger is not known to him, Elthain just that it nears. Be what it may, we can be quite sure it is a stroke from the Enemy."

"Why flee? Like Arador did, we should take the battle to the enemy."

"We know not where the enemy will strike and what the Enemy intends to do? Not yet. His plans are not clear to us. All we know is he seeks to dominate the North and make sure the Heirs of Elendil do not survive. How he plans to do it I am not sure. The Orcs are multiplying in the mountains even now as we speak and there are wolves in his vanguard. Who else knows what creatures he has been hiding till now? If we are defeated and the line extinct, I fear the Dunedain will fall into shadow never to rise again. And if the Dunedain fall, there is no hope for Middle Earth. We must need preserve that hope and by hope, I mean the ancestry of Numenor. Know this, Dunedain of Arnor, that we have royalty even though Gondor boasts of power. If we fall, then Gondor shall fall too and with it all of Middle Earth. Do we abandon the people of Middle Earth to their fate? Do we let them stand alone?"

Arathorn saw that they were still not convinced.

"Arador's designs will be followed, I assure you, but they will have to be postponed until the danger is passed."

"And when will that be, pray?" asked Dirhael.

"The White Council looks for an answer. We believe that Sauron intends to strike at two places at once. According to the scouts the elves sent out, Sauron's forces have started ambushing the elven camps in Mirkwood. The hosts of Dol Goldur silently move northward. The only people who will stand against him and his venture into the north are the dwarves of the Iron Hills. Lord Elrond fears Sauron will look to use the dragon of Erebor against them. If Mirkwood and the dwarves fall, Sauron shall have a free passage to the North. If he does, Mount Gundabad might be strengthened and other holds in the Mountains. Even more, Angmar maybe reclaimed. If Angmar is reclaimed, then we shall have no peace in Eriador or any of the lands west of the Misty Mountains. But the campaign against Mirkwood isn't his only campaign. Even now, there have been rumors of orcs and goblins gathering in the High Pass. We fear an army of them might come ravaging across northern Rhudaur and attack us."

The Council Members looked at each other.

"We would be hard pressed, my people. We will all die and by saying that, I do not imply I am a coward. I just want the royalty in Arnor to be preserved so one day, I or my son could claim the throne of Minas Tirith and reunite both Arnor and Gondor."

The Council Members now started whispering to each other. Arathorn went across to a table and drank himself a phial of water.

"So, we should Lord Elrond's counsel you say?" asked Elthain.

"No other choice do we have. I shall speak to my wife and arrange for the twin sons of Elrond to escort her safely to Imladris. We must move our people to Sarn Ford or settle in the regions around Bree."

"Bree? The people there scorn us, my lord."

"Scorn they will for to them we are nothing but brigands and outlaws. They know nothing of our adventures and our toil to keep them safe from the evil that now rises in the east. But if they are oblivious, it is our part to keep them so. The lesser these men know the better. I would not want to bother them with old tales."

Dirhael laughed. "If the old tales be told to them, who would believe them? We shall all do as you command."

Arathorn nodded, "I thank you, my lords."

And then, "Rick, send out your scouts. We must know from where the Enemy intends to attack."

Rick nodded.

"Thank you, my lords. Now I shall go to Gilraen and speak of this."

The others nodded and went out of the room.

Arathorn was about to call Gilraen when the twin sons entered. "Seems the Council went well?" asked Elladan.

"It went well, sort of."

"Then all is good. We have prepared a small caravan. Lady Gilraen and little Aragorn shall travel by it and we shall lead it."

Elrohir was looking out of the window. His brows were furrowed.

Arathorn looked at him. "What is with you, cousin?"

Elrohir looked at them in great alarm. "Prepare you men, my lord and hide your women and children, for I perceive a great danger nearby. They have come faster than we accepted."

Arathorn rushed out of the room. "To arms, to arms." He shouted as he ran.

The Dunedain stood up in alarm and put on their gears as soon as they heard their Captain's calls.

Dirhael came out of his house, "What?"

"The Enemy" said Arathorn. "They are here. Closer than we thought they would be."

Dirhael looked grave and put on his war vest. Elladan and Elrohir were already out and set of war. The Dunedain archers and spearmen were already brandishing their weapons and some were escorting the women and children into the Chief's House and barricading the doors to it.

"Where are they?" asked one of the Dunedain who went by the name of Caleg.

"There." pointed the other Dunedain beside him. Caleg looked at him. "Orcs. So much fun."

The other Dunedain laughed. The archers strung their bows.

The orcs were in droves and they were numerous. A Captain was there, heavily mailed and the steel of it clanked as he ran.

"What a huge ruckus they make!" remarked Caleg.

"It is their wont. Let us make mincemeat of them so we could have silence for a while."

Caleg nodded. "I agree with you, Runon"

Arathorn brandished his sword. He held the tip of it to his forehead and he now looked full of wrath.

"Prepare to fire!" he commanded.

The orcs came near. Their cries were hideous.

"Fire!" shouted Arathorn.

A hail of arrows flew towards the orcs. Those in the lead were gutted and fell to the ground.

"Fire at will!" shouted Elthain.

Arathorn was getting impatient. He ran towards the orc onslaught and with a sword cleaved through some of the orcs that managed to dodge the arrows and reach. The first stab went through the stomach and the second through the mouth. The third was a slash from the shoulder to the hips and the fourth right into the chest.

Arathorn lifted his sword, now stained with black blood dripping from its edges. He smiled and then lifted his sword to behead another orc.

"Charge!" shouted Elthain.

The Dunedain brandished their swords and rushed at their enemies. Many orcs fell that day. Elladan and Elrohir kept firing their arrows which felled many orcs. Arathorn and Dirhael were cleaving orcs together. None dared to come near them, except one.

The Captain of the Orcs raised his scimitar at Dirhael who was unfortunate not to see him. The scimitar cleaved through Dirhael's arm. Dirhael let out a shout. Pain crept into his shoulders. Dirhael staggered back. The Captain was about to strike him down when Arathorn blocked his attack.

"Go" he said to Dirhael.

Dirhael nodded although reluctance did show into his face.

Arathorn looked into the Captain's eyes.

The Captain smirked. "So you are the Heir of Isildur. Ah! With you gone, this rabble will be dead. Now, die" he shouted.

Arathorn blocked the attack again. Their steels clattered. The Captain was an orc of great strength and in no matter of time, he pushed Arathorn away.

Arathorn was upon the ground, fallen. He tried to get up but the action pained him. His sword was nearby and he was trying to reach it. He crawled slowly and was able to get his hands upon the pommel of his sword. He was beginning to get up when he felt a heavy leather boot crushing his spine. He breathed a gasp of air which made the dust of the ground scatter.

He had to do something. What strength he had, he mustered and he pushed back the leg. The Captain staggered back a little and raised its scimitar to strike. Before it could, Arathorn drove his sword through his guts.

"Did you know, orc, that even if I fell, there would be still hope left for my people? No. Good enough. You will never remember." And then he pulled his sword out and in a quick motion, beheaded the Captain.

Seeing their Captain die, the orcs finally gave way and rushed into the forests to the north. Arathorn thought that all was over and he removed his helmet when a sharp arrow pierced his left eye. In a second, Arathorn fell down, a smile upon his face, life having finally left him.

Elladan and Elrohir soon came to his side and held him. The Dunedain gathered around. All were crying. They had now suffered the greatest loss ever. Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other and stood up.

"Men of the West, this is no time for grief. We must avenge Lord Arathorn. The orcs have fled but let none reach their destination." Said Elrohir.

Dirhael said, "Yes, none must. Go, Rangers of the North, go hunt some orc. I shall stay here and break the news to the others."

The Rangers nodded, albeit sadly and pulling their gears over their heads, went into the forests pursuing the orcs.

Elladan and Elrohir stayed back however. Dirhael removed the barricades and pushed open the doors. The women were crying, clutching their children tight in their bosoms.

"Women of the Dunedain, we have won the day but with great loss. The danger has passed. For now. Come out and feel the air but there is also dread and sadness." And then he turned towards Gilraen. He looked at her with sad eyes which Gilraen stared into and understood.

"Lord Arathorn is dead. An orc slew him with an arrow that pierced his eyes. I am sorry." said Dirhael.

Gilraen looked at her father in shock. Tears leapt from her eyes. She then fell to her knees.

The other women bent alongside her trying to console her but she would not. Moments later, she rose and went outside to kneel at her husband's side.

Elladan and Elrohir were standing beside Arathorn's dead figure.

Gilraen walked slowly, so did little Aragorn.

"Papa, papa" he shouted and ran towards his father, bumping his father's chest with his hands.

Elladan and Elrohir looked sadly at him. Elrohir took Aragorn away from his father and whispered into his ear, "Papa is sleeping, Aragorn."

"When will he wake up?" he asked.

"Soon but not very soon." replied Elrohir.

"Lady Gilraen." said Elladan.

"Yes, my lord."

"You and Aragorn must come with us to Rivendell. The Enemy's arms have lengthened and the line must be preserved at all cost. Otherwise we would fall into shadow. Come, lady Gilraen. Lord Elrond wishes so and bearing that message we came here. Even your husband, Lord Arathorn, was of one mind with us. He wanted to speak with you ere we were attacked."

"I cannot, my lord. My husband died here and my place is with my people."

"No, my lady. Your place is with Imladris. Lord Elrond wanted us to escort you there. You will be at peace there, lady and your son shall be fostered like all the other ancestors before him. Come, if not for yourself then come for your son. He needs to be kept safe and his identity secret. The Enemy seeks him, that you know about. Rivendell is the safest place for your son."

Gilraen looked at Dirhael who nodded.

Then she said, "If such is the wish of Lord Elrond and my father hither and my husband who I loved, then I shall honor it."

Elladan nodded. He then turned towards Dirhael. "Nobody must know where they are being taken. Not even the other council members."

Dirhael nodded again. He was clutching his arm which was wounded.

"It might be long before you see them again. It might be long before we see you again. For now, you will have to fend for yourself. I will alert the wandering companies as to your plight. You must move this settlement far westward. Disband your companies until the time comes when you can reunite. For now, stay low and make no move against the Enemy. But keep a watch on the surround."

Dirhael said, "It shall be as you say, my lords. Take care of my daughter and my grandson."

The Twins nodded. Elrohir had managed to bring another horse from the stables. He placed Aragorn and then bade Gilraen mount. When it was done, they rode out of Tualdor like a storm out of the mountains.

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	16. Chapter - 15: Estel We Shall Call You

_**A/N: WITH THE LAST CHAPTER ENDED THE FIRST PART OF THIS SERIES: THE BIRTH OF HOPE. WITH THIS CHAPTER BEGINS THE SECOND PART: ESTEL ELRONDION. THIS SERIES SHALL RECOUNT THE EVENTS THAT HAPPENED DURING THE YEARS 2933 AND 2951 OF THE THIRD AGE OF MIDDLE EARTH. IT WILL BE THE PERIOD WHERE ESTEL GROWS AND HIS TRAINING WITH THE ELVES. HOWEVER THIS SERIES SHALL ALSO RECOUNT WHAT THE DUNEDAIN DID DURING THESE YEARS TO COUNTER THE MENACE OF SAURON AND THE MEETINGS OF THE WHITE COUNCIL. ENJOY!**_

**CHAPTER – 15  
ESTEL WE SHALL CALL YOU**

Five days had passed since Arathorn had been passed away. The journey was slow and wary. Even though the orcs had fled to the north, there was still a danger to them. They had not taken the road, instead ridden through the wildernesse that stretched south of it. The forests around provided them ample cover. They had passed Weathertop two days back and they were now coming nearer to the banks of the River Mithieithel. They could hear the roars of the river as the waters splashing upon jagged rocks.

Mithieithel was a swift river, its waters vigorous as it flowed down to the valleys from the Misty Mountains. There was no other way to cross it other than the Last Bridge except if one wished to swim across which was dangerous.

Elladan stayed their advance. "We need to get to the Road. The Last Bridge is the only way across the river."

Elrohir nodded. "Well, we rest here a little and then we ride."

Elladan looked at him and said, "Tired early, brother?"

Elrohir laughed. "You wish. I only asked for a respite because I presume Lady Gilraen is tired and little Aragorn has already slept."

"Fair enough." said Elladan.

Elladan looked at Lady Gilraen whose shoulders were already slumping and her eyes little drowsy. He ran to her and before she could fall off her horse, he caught her in his arms. "My lady!" he cried.

Gilraen opened her eyes warily.

"We rode hard today." said Elladan.

"I know, brother and without breaks. But we have to. The enemy scours these lands now. Even more will they do so since we advised the Dunedain to lay low and hide in secret places. We must reach Imladris faster. Already the sun is high and noon withers past. Soon evening shall fall and then night shall come." replied Elrohir.

Elladan nodded. "True. But, remember brother, these are not elf-kind. They are mortals. A woman and a child at that. And Lady Gilraen, she is already bowed down by grief, by her loss. She stays strong for little Aragorn."

"Yes, but do not blame yourself then for the riding hard. We both know how much pressed we are. The faster they reach the safe strongholds, the better off they will be."

"Yes, true you speak but now bring me the leather pouch. I think we must give Lady Gilraen some of the elven draughts."

"Aye! Let her drink it. Then we can stay here awhile and then leave."

Elrohir marched off and then bearing the leather pouch, he came back. He handed the pouch to his brother and went away again to stand beside their horses who were eating off what little grass they could find.

Elladan rummaged through his pouch and took out a flask filled a golden colored liquid. He removed the lids of the flask and put a mouthful each into Gilraen and Aragorn's mouths. A moment later, Gilraen stirred in her body and Aragorn woke up, looking at the trees with his curious puppy looking eyes.

Elladan smiled. "Well, Lady Gilraen, how are you feeling?"

Lady Gilraen rubbed her eyes and looked at him. "Better, my lord."

Elladan smiled again. "Good. We shall rest awhile before we ride again. Before the night falls, we must reach the Fords of Bruinen."

Lady Gilraen nodded.

Elladan looked at her sympathetically and went to Elrohir who was now playing with little Aragorn.

"She is in grief." He whispered.

"Grief she will have. She has suffered a great loss. Arathorn's death has been a great loss. I fear her hurts might not heal, not even in Rivendell." answered back Elrohir.

Elladan began to look grave. "These plans we made, never did it turn out well. Who knows what black thoughts marred them? Again we suffer a defeat."

Elrohir said, laughing along with the child, "Through many defeats we shall come to a long victory, brother. Have hope."

"I did not say I had lost hope."

"Yet you whine of a defeat. If one plan fails, there will always be another. All our hope now lies on this young boy."

Elladan caressed the little boy's head. He smiled. "Like a brother he shall be to us."

"Aye, our little brother! But he already is. He is our kinsman."

"Aye."

Elladan left Elrohir to play with little Aragorn and he stood out watching the western lands. The forest was silent. There were little birds and those that were made little sound.

Half an hour passed by swiftly and Elrohir called out. "Brother, Lady Gilraen, its time we left this place. Time does not wait. We must reach the fords ere night falls"

Elladan helped the lady onto her horse, placing Aragorn before her. Then he leapt upon his own horse and they all rode away northward.

A few minutes later, they passed on the Last Bridge. They met some dwarves who were traveling west who gave them not so good news. They said evil stirred in the east and the mountains were teaming with goblins. They had been attacked they said and only when old Rodrik the leader of the dwarven company struck down their band did they flee back into their caves but Rodrik was also killed in that fight.

The twin sons of Elrond said they were sorry for their loss and wished them well. The dwarves carried on their journey westward and they on their way.

Evening fell and the sun set below the horizon. Already darkness was settling in. They heard the roars of Bruinen. Elladan screamed in joy. "The Fords are here. We are quite near."

Elrohir clapped Elladan on his back. "Yes we are near. Home at last."

Lady Gilraen laughed. "You miss your home yet you are always in the outside world."

Elladan furrowed his brows. "Home is home, my lady. Imladris is a haven for those who love peace and music as you will see. But we have not forgotten the torment of our mother at the hands of the orcs. For that, we seek vengeance."

Gilraen nodded.

Elrohir brought some dry wood which he found some distance away and lit a small fire.

"Sleep, my lady. Make Aragorn sleep too. The night is going to be long."

"I am not sleepy. I have a mind to wake."

"You must rest. Riding is tiresome."

"Yet you do not rest."

"We are not so weary, lady."

"Not weary, you say. Then why stop? Let us ride and reach Imladris the faster."

"The paths are better by light, my lady."

Gilraen looked at him. "As you say, but then do not ask me to sleep. Not now."

Elrohir nodded. "As you wish."

Elladan looked at the river that flowed nearby. "Should we not have crossed and rested?"

Elrohir said, "Oh, do not be a spoilsport now after I have toiled to light this fire, small as it is. Anyways, this fire is not making any smoke. Besides, the Enemy would not dare come near Rivendell."

Elladan smiled. "That is if they know the hidden fortress is just close by. The Enemy guesses maybe but its minions might not know. The river is our border. Might we not have crossed it and rest? The orcs would not cross this sacred water."

Elrohir nodded. "But I would not have you move us now. Not after all I have toiled."

"The fire, you mean?"

Elrohir said, "Aye."

"The lighting of a fire is not a big deal for an elf. Maybe you are not."

"If I was not, why would I still have the grace of the Eldar?"

"Maybe because I am your brother and the Valar would not have you sundered from me."

Elrohir laughed. "Why do such foolish thoughts cross your mind?"

Elladan smiled. "Because you bring up foolish questions. That fire you have not toiled for."

"I do not know why you are so anxious to move to the other bank? I do not see any imminent danger and my instincts have always proven us well."

"No doubt, brother, but still, my heart misgives staying here."

Elrohir looked at his brother in doubt. "There is no danger, brother. And if any comes nearby, we shall cross the river."

Elladan nodded. "I am just being paranoid, I believe."

Elrohir smiled. "Yes. The orcs have spoiled our plans of late. Perhaps you think this small plan of staying here for the night will also be spoiled. But by whom, dear brother? Ask yourself."

Gilraen smiled as she saw them arguing and then she remembered her own brother, Iorlas. She remembered him. She played with him when she was a child. Iorlas always took care of her. He was always laughing. Five years back, he and father had had a fight. And he had left the village eastward. No news of him had ever come back. Grief again settled in her mind. She had lost her husband and her brother. The loss of Arathorn however had shocked her. This could not be. Her life force was withering inside but she knew she had to be stronger. If not for her, then for Aragorn. She had to be steady.

She said then, "If the brotherly arguments are over, then should I say that we should all goto sleep? The moon is high almost and we are all weary. But I know the elves will deny it."

Elladan laughed. "So we will. You should rest, my lady. And so does Aragorn."

Gilraen nodded. "Then I must wish you both a good night."

Elrohir smiled. "Then you must. Good night to you too, my lady. May the dawn bring you fresh hope and strength."

"The dawn is still far away, lord."

"Not quite. But I know for a fact that Ithil will always rush behind Anar."

Gilraen laughed and for that time, it was like a small child.

"Sleep, my lady. As the sun rises, we shall ride and be on our way."

The sun rose early the next day and Elladan and Company were already riding. They had crossed the Fords of Bruinen sometime ago. They had gone a few miles when they were stopped. Three elves, wearing a green and brown dress, came out of the trees.

"Oh! Pardon us, lords. We did not know it were you." said the elf to the left. He was tall and with black long hair.

"Well, Lindir, nothing of matter." said Elrohir.

"I see you bring mortals."

"Yes, Lindir, the lady here is Gilraen, daughter of Dirhael. And this is her little boy. He has not been named yet."

Gilraen looked up at Elrohir.

Lindir looked at her and said, "She looks to be one of the Dunedain."

"Yes, Lindir. She is one of them. Now we must hurry. We must see our father."

"Yes, my lords. You may pass."

Elrohir and Elladan both bowed and gave a hearty kick to their steeds. The Company moved through sharp ravines and steep cliffs until in the distance, Gilraen beheld the hidden fortress of Imladris. Her mouth opened as she looked at it in wonder. Elladan laughed and then she suddenly closed her mouth, ashamed that she had done so despite her royalty.

"Do not feel shamed, my lady. Many a mortal has that same look on their faces when they first behold the last homely home. Welcome, Lady Gilraen, to Imladris, Rivendell as you call in the Westron tongue."

Within a few moments, they were there at the gates. They had crossed a long stone bridge that went over a bright stream which came down from the mountains beyond. They entered through the gates only to find a great pavilion, floors of white marbles. Lord Elrond stood there in his kingly garb and beside him were Lord Glorfindel and Erestor.

Lord Elrond strode forward as they alighted their horses.

"Welcome, Lady Gilraen of the Dunedain. You have been long awaited." He said.

"As have I awaited to look upon your lordship and the hidden valley, which I had heard was beautiful. Now that I have seen it, I do think the rumors were not just rumors." answered Lady Gilraen.

"And for that, I thank you. Here is Lord Glorfindel and Erestor, counselor to the house of Imladris."

Gilraen bowed to them gracefully.

Erestor smiled. "You remind me of Isilmire, wife of Elendil."

Gilraen smiled. "Thank you, my lord."

"You are most welcome, my lady, to Imladris."

"Thank you, my lords."

Lord Elrond smiled. "We must now go inside. Some words are best not spoken here."

Lord Elrond led them into a small room quite nearby. There was a small hearth in which a fire burned. There were chairs and tables and there was one wooden cot, beautifully garbed in red and blue which rested near a window overlooking the falls.

Elrond bade her sit upon one of the chairs. Elladan and Elrohir brought Aragorn in.

Elrond and the other chieftains of Rivendell looked on him. Elrond smiled. "Here is little Aragorn. I long have desired to look upon him, Gilraen. Now that you have brought him here, I am most happy."

Gilraen nodded and bowed.

"You must be wondering why I intended to bring Aragorn here."

"I guess, my lord, but I do not yet know clearly."

"Then I shall speak to you clearly. I wanted Aragorn to be brought here so that he be safe and he be protected. Our plans have backfired and the Enemy still wages his war in the east. We have led the orcs to believe that with Arathorn's death, the line of Isildur too has failed and we must keep this belief for many years. Despite this misleading, Sauron will keep searching for the heir of Elendil. He will never forget but in years, much pressing thoughts may enter his mind and then he will be busy. Even then, I think the lineage should not be revealed to him for it might provoke a huge war."

"Then what do you intend to do, my lord?"

"We shall train Aragorn here in Imladris and at the Grey Havens to the West. But during this time, he must forget his name, he must forget his entire lineage. I assure you this information shall not go out of Imladris. Thus the line shall be preserved, only hidden, deep and secret."

"But my lord, if he knows not his ancestry, he might forget who he is."

"No. We shall him tell his truth when I deem the time is right and when he is ready for it. Right now he is not. I see the sadness in his heart. He still wonders why his father wakes not from the sleep. He will be asking for Arathorn but you will not tell him. At least you shall not speak your husband's name in front of him. This I must ask of you."

Gilraen nodded sadly.

"You must think of a new name, Gilraen. A name that befits him."

Gilraen looked up. "He shall be named Estel."

"Estel!" remarked Elrond. "Yes, Estel we shall call him. Hope. For hope he shall be for the Dunedain. I foresee it. If he succeeds in the tests of his life, then he shall rebuild this hurt world. If he fails, then all the world shall be plunged into shadow. A great doom lies upon him. Yes, Estel befits him."

He bent in front of the boy and said, "Estel we will call you from now."

The boy looked into Elrond's eyes and said, "Estel."

Elrond smiled.

"Estel here shall be from today onwards my foster son. He shall be Estel Elrondion."

"I thank you for your grace, Lord Elrond." said Gilraen.

Elrond looked at her and smiled. "It is my duty to the Dunedain, Gilraen. He is of the line of my brother, Elros. I shall look after him like a son."

Then the chieftains left the room. Elladan and Elrohir remained behind, clutching little Estel.

Elrohir said, "I did say he would be like our brother."

Elladan smiled. "Yes, you did say."

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	17. Chapter - 16: Mushroom Stew

**CHAPTER – 16  
MUSHROOM STEW AND TENDER MEAT**

It was a week since the battle and Caleg and his friends were out upon the hunt. The days were bright and there was no sign of clouds in the sky. The sun was high this day and burned hot and so Caleg and his friends grew weary in their warm garbs. They held huge bows made of yew in their hands and their quivers full of silver arrows. They had been sent to gather food before the settlements of Tualdor were dismantled and the Dunedain scattering into the West.

The decisions had been long and the Council had debated this issue for three days. Even though Arathorn had wanted his wife and son to go to the secure fortress of the elves, many of the Dunedain believed that the heir should be raised among men first and later could be sent to foster at Rivendell. But the sons of Elrond had taken them nonetheless and Dirhael had given them the authority to do it. For long hours, Dirhael was questioned and one had always put words against him. Ingold he was called; freshly arrived from the South after his journeys in Langstrand and Lebennin.

Ingold had been away for many years, serving in the armies of Gondor learning of the situation there and had come back after a long sojourn. When he had learnt Arador and Arathorn were both dead, he was distraught but even more he had been when he heard from Dirhael that Aragorn and Gilraen had been sent away to Imladris.

After three long and weary days, Ingold accepted Dirhael's reasoning of keeping Aragorn safe from the Enemy. But his acceptance was not unconditional. He wanted the Dunedain to fight back and that Tualdor be made into a fortress. The Council however refused his plans. They said Elrond's counsels were wise and better heeded. Ingold had not liked that but he kept his peace. He had then left the room and wept for the loss of his dear friend, Arathorn.

And now Caleg and his friends were in the forests north of Chetwood up the Greenway, hunting for meat. They hardly found any. It seemed that the game had all disappeared. Where to? They knew not.

Caleg was so weary that he did not appear to notice a small but thick root branching away from the tree to his right and he tripped over it. He fell to the ground, his hair covered with dry leaves of red and small twigs which he waved off with his fair hands. He grunted while his friends had a laugh.

"Laugh while you can. Surely, we ought to rest awhile now. We have traveled far and there is little game. Little did I say? I am wrong. There is none." said Caleg.

There were two companions with him, Mablung and Runon.

Runon came forward. "Here let me offer you a hand."

"Thanks but no thanks. I can get up on my own."

"Wonderful! I thought you could only fall."

"Funny, are you? Not at all, Runon."

"I did not intend it as a joke. A ranger tripped by a root."

Mablung laughed. "Runon, do you think that battle with the orcs unhinged him? Did it change his ranger mindset?"

Runon smiled and said, "No, Mablung. For certain reason, our dear friend Caleg decides to become a crawling spy."

Mablung said, "Spy? Maybe we should send him east. Spy upon Dol Goldur, will you Caleg?"

"I will, if the high ones command it." retorted Caleg.

"Brave one, this here Caleg. But tell me, friend, how are you going to be a successful spy if you constantly fall tripping upon roots? I heard the Greenwood is much greater than this."

"Aye!" said Mablung

Caleg snorted and said, "Let us rest here, shall we? I will hear no more of your silly taunts."

"Not taunts, Caleg, facts." laughed Runon.

"You were always a mad person, Runon. I shall not mind you or your puns. They might not be intended but they still are poor puns. Now bring me some dead wood, will you?"

"Why, my friend? Do you want to trip over again?" asked Runon.

"Again, very funny. But bring me the wood. I need to make a fire."

"Fire? Fire for what? It is not sundown yet."

"I am famished, Mablung. We all are. Do not deny it. I can see the hunger in your eyes."

"OH" remarked Mablung

"See, maybe I am a Ranger still. Now Runon, will you go get me the things I need?"

Runon looked at him, standing still. "As you wish, my lord." He said mocking like.

Runon left them, marching into the west, leaving Caleg almost smirking.

Mablung smiled. "Just for curiosity's sake, tell me, what are you cooking?"

"Mushroom stew."

"Mushrooms? Delicious those are. I remember when I was a kid, I used to eat them almost raw and my father used to scold me. Not all mushrooms are edible, he used to tell and I wouldn't care. One day, however, I fell sick and when my father found out I had touched a mushroom before falling ill, I never got a mushroom for weeks after I healed."

Caleg laughed. "Apt punishment that. Always listen to your elders for they have the experience of what little life we men have and also wisdom. But as kids, we never care. Such is the way of childhood. Whatever you say, Mablung, those were the golden days when we had no care, no duties. Now, we are burdened with missions. But I am not whining. I will do anything to protect my people."

"So will I. Long has the Enemy hunted us. The time will come soon when we shall stand against his mighty powers. Soon may it come. I long to test my powers against his. My sword drawn against his foul minions."

"You may soon get that wish. But for now, let us talk no more of evil and darkness and shadows but enjoy the delicious meal I will cook for you. But famished as we are and however early we hope to feed on something, we must wait for Runon who is taking his time gathering dead wood. I saw plenty of them lying about the ground a league backward."

Mablung nodded. "May he come fast! I am hungry."

Caleg laughed. "Here you admit it to me and yet in front of Runon, you fall silent. Is it that you love to have fun when he is around at the cost of me?"

Mablung smiled. "Runon might be a little crazy but he means well. Do not take his words to heart."

"If I did, my friend, would I remain by his side?" asked Caleg.

Mablung said, "Aye! Now would this Runon come fast. I am starving and your mentioning of mushrooms brings water to my tongue."

"Pretty much like a Halfling from the Shire you sound. I hear the little people like mushrooms too."

"Like? That is an understatement. Love is more like it."

"Strange people they are."

"Aye! But I wish I was one of them. They are aloof from this world and look after their own."

"Aye, that too. But the Enemy knows them not and the orcs seldom go so far west. They are safe because of us."

Mablung nodded. "Well, like the Halflings, I like mushrooms."

"Love is more like it."

Both of them laughed.

They stood up then for they heard footsteps. They had put their hands upon their long swords when Runon stepped out of the trees carrying venison on his shoulders.

"Where in the name of the Valar did you find?" asked Mablung

"Three miles I traveled west of here. I did not find dead wood but I found a pack of deer running about. If you go fast, you might yet find them. I shall stay here and maybe have a little bite."

Caleg frowned. "As selfish as ever."

Runon said, "Well, I could carry only one."

They laughed.

As they did, the sun began its course westward and it would be two hours later that the sun would disappear beneath the western horizon.

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	18. Chapter - 17: In The Kitchens

**CHAPTER – 17  
IN THE KITCHENS**

The small mortal child in Imladris brought it much laughter and life. The halls were always grave and sad. It was almost like the whole house of Imladris was mourning for ages. So it seemed. Elrond was an old elf now, left alone among his other old companions. Very few in Rivendell were young according to their kind. Those who were went scouting and wandering the lands. And there were hardly any kids in Rivendell. Estel was the only one now.

Little Estel was quite lively. He would run with his tiny little feet over the cold marble floors, smile upon his face. He would play with the elves. He would get along well with almost anyone. He would try to climb the high benches be he could not. Then he would cry until an elf or Gilraen picked him up and placed him upon it. Then he would be put to sleep for Gilraen would sing him a lullaby. He would seem fair to her and when he would sleep, Gilraen always would be in tears for Estel looked a lot like his father, Arathorn.

But Estel would wake up. He would have nightmares in the night. He would shout with sweet voice "Papa, sleep, no come". Then Gilraen would grieve. Even though she thought Estel had got over it, he definitely had not. He still waited for Papa. How could she explain what really happened? How could she explain death to a small child? Perhaps she could ask Lord Elrond for a remedy.

Elladan and Elrohir played with Estel whenever they could. This would make Estel feel good and he would follow them like a little puppy all over the fortress, as much he could with his puny feet. Then he would sit cross legged on the ground and Elladan would run back, smiling, and pick him up, holding him over the shoulders.

This went on for two months. Every day was the same as before. They had little news of the outside world, save that the Rangers, their kinsmen, were retreating into the West for the time being leaving Eriador empty and silent. All of this was done to give Sauron an illusion. He had sent messengers to the Dunedain two weeks back sending counsels and gifts. He asked that an acting chieftain be elected until the time comes.

There was a little opposition though and some of the Dunedain demanded that the heir be returned to them but Elrond had counseled heavily against it and said that this should be so. Sauron should be able to believe the Dunedain is no more. He knew that scouts would be sent into Eriador. Elrond knew that no news of the Dunedain victory had reached the ears of Sauron. He asked the Dunedain to blend in with the normal folk and spread rumors about the end of the Rangers and that the line of Isildur had finally ended. The camp of Nithiel in Rhudaur was disbanded and so were many camps to the south. Many of them went westward near the Blue Mountains, while some went north towards Lindon and the Tower Hills. The Dunedain were said that this was just temporary and when the time comes, Elrond will give a signal to say that all was safe and they could return to Eriador. Most of the villages were disbanded and only hillmen remained in Rhudaur. The elves of Imladris still patrolled the eastern borders of erstwhile Arnor from Ettenmoors to the Redhorn pass, watching and guarding.

Other than that, Gilraen received little news. When she asked who had become the acting Chieftain, Elladan had replied that Hallor was. She was relieved. Hallor was a distant descendant of Argonui himself through his sister. However he said he laid no claim on the descent and would serve as the Chieftain till Aragorn returns.

Well, she would not worry about her kinsmen anymore. Only Estel consumed her now. He had to grow up to a huge destiny and she always knew his life would be the most difficult. Huge tests awaited her son and mostly he would be hunted all his life. She then hardened her heart and decided that she will raise Estel to be one of the greatest men of their age.

Every morning Estel would wake up and Elrond would take him for a walk in the lively gardens of Rivendell. Sometimes Elladan and Elrohir would accompany them and take him to the waterfalls beyond. Sometimes they went into the woods above Imladris but not too high up as Estel was yet a small baby.

Elrond would point out the trees and the birds perched upon it. He would point the sun and the ground. Estel would look at Elrond passionately and dance around him. And then Elrond would laugh.

Elrond grew to love Estel in his own ways. Months passed by and his love for Estel only increased. It reminded him of the days he and Celebrian would lift up their two children, Elladan and Elrohir, and laugh; their sound echoing in the mountain dells. Their daughter, Arwen, would dangle behind them, also wanting to be lifted up. After those days, there were seldom any children in Imladris. True, the Dunedain leaders were fostered in Rivendell for a time but they came there when they were nearing their seventeens. When Estel danced around him, clutching his legs, he reminded him of Arwen who used to do the same. The he would lift Estel up as he had done Arwen high up above his head and kiss him on the forehead.

In Estel, life had returned back in Rivendell which had fallen very quiet since Celebrian's departure. Elrond missed her most and also his daughter who to the most part lived in Lothlorien, the land of the Golden Wood. Now that Estel was here, time passed swiftly by, even in the reckoning of elves, it seemed to Elrond. He would creep under beds, crawl in the halls, run with his puny feet which was amusing to all the elves. They all would rejoice in Estel. Sometimes, as a reward, they would give Estel a piece of waybread.

It was eleven months to the day when Estel was quite alone, walking slowly. Rivendell was a labyrinth and most of them would forget the way if not guided by an elf. Estel had wandered this day and walking faster now he had reached a small hall. He looked here and there and gave a laugh. And then he ran first to the corridor in the left and then again on the right. Finally he reached a big room. The room had larders of vegetables and fruits and huge stacks of red meat were on the tables to the right. Estel heard two female voices laughing and went in the direction of the voice.

The two she-elves saw him approach and were amazed for never before they had sighted a mortal their whole life and to see one in the kitchens of Imladris was a pleasant surprise. He came laughing to them and tugged at one's dress. They both laughed. One of the she-elves lifted him up and placed him on a nearby chair.

"Cute he looks yet I can tell he is of high birth." said the one who had lifted him up.

"Yes. I had not to see a mortal in Imladris. I wonder what he is doing here." said the other.

"Well I had heard a rumor of certain mortal guests but I did not know they stayed here. They must be high indeed in the eyes of Lord Elrond otherwise why would they be here?"

"Aye! But well since he is here, we must give him a part of this." She pointed towards a small pot which held a steaming liquid.

"Yes, I would bet he is hungry." She said laughing.

"Babies usually are. Remember Elladan when he was little."

"A glutton he was, I remember. What seems now to me only a very few years ago."

"Yes, I remember he used to steal from the larders and we used to pursue him into the halls beyond."

They both laughed. When they turned back, the chair was empty. Estel had gone. They could hear his feet some way back. They shook their heads, saw that the table nearby was cleared of some of the waybread they had stacked.

"This mortal is more like Elladan."

Then they pursued him, laughing. Estel would often look back and give the tenderly laugh. He ran and ran. The elven women were running behind him and about to stop him when Estel ran into a tall figure. It was Lord Elrond.

The two elven women stood straight. Lord Elrond looked at little Estel and the waybread in his hands and then at the women. He smiled.

"So Estel has finally found the kitchens. So now you have to be extra careful, Miriel and Faelwen."

The two women laughed. "We shall be, Lord Elrond, but I must say this boy reminds me of little Elladan."

Elrond smiled. "That he maybe. Know this then, little Estel is my foster-son and he will be treated like my other children."

Miriel and Faelwen bowed. "As you wish, my lord."

He then beckoned to a guard who took Estel away. Then he turned towards the two women. "When the time comes, I shall send for you two. You must teach Estel the same things you taught my children."

"Yes, my lord. But he is a mortal." said Miriel.

"Yes, and he shall be taught in the elven ways. A huge destiny is upon him and he should be prepared."

"Yes, my lord." Said the two women.

"And remember, not one word of this mortal shall go beyond the walls of this city. It has been decreed."

The two women bowed.

"Go now. May the Valar be with you."

The two women bowed again and went back up the corridor to the kitchens.

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	19. Chapter - 18: A Plan To Divert

**CHAPTER – 18  
A PLAN TO DIVERT**

The atmosphere in the Hall of Fire was tense. Gilraen was worried, so were the other elves. One mistake on their part and Estel had wandered off. Not that he could not be found but what if he got hurt? These thoughts waylaid Gilraen's mind. The other elves were trying to comfort her but her motherly instincts forbade them.

Suddenly a guard wholly clad in white appeared bearing little Estel in his arms and put him down near his mother. Lord Elrond came a little while later, a big smile upon his face.

Gilraen was hugging and kissing Estel, worry disappeared from her face, tears leaping down from her eyes.

Elladan stood beside his twin brother. "One mistake we did and Estel wandered off. We feel sorry for it. Thank the Valar nothing happened."

Lord Elrond smiled. "What did you think would happen, son? This is a safe place."

Elrohir replied, "Father, Estel is a toddler still. Anything might have happened. He might have been hurt."

Elrond sighed. "I know of the dangers that beset a toddler, son. But I deem, this mistake was meant to be. Estel is curious in his own respect, very curious. Very much like you, Elladan, if I might add. This the two elven maids agreed. I say he was meant to seek them. He was meant to wander. His destiny is what sets him apart and so we must keep it. Till now, everything has been brought to him. I think now we must let him find himself. Curiosity is his strength. We must hone it. Allow him to wander alone but keep a watchful eye on him. Elladan, Elrohir, I want you to observe him. Take time off from your ranging duties. They can wait. We must prepare Estel for his part to play in the war that draws nigh."

Gilraen shook her head. "But, lord, what if he hurts himself?"

"He won't, Lady Gilraen. As I said, we will keep an eye on him. He is young yet so we wouldn't press him much. For now, he will have to learn to speak. When the time comes, I shall send him to the two elven maids. There he shall learn what he must learn. Keep your worries aside, my lady. Estel will be a force to reckon with when he comes of age. A training shall be given him which has not been given to any son of the Edain since the days of Isildur."

Gilraen did not doubt Lord Elrond's plans for her son. So she nodded. Elrond smiled. "Do not be worried for your son. The time of the elves is over. But before we go, lady, we would like part with Middle Earth by giving it a gift. That gift shall be Estel. One of the greatest leaders of men of this age he shall be. We shall make him so, trained in the ways of both men and elves. He shall be trained and retrained until he is ready to take upon the mantle of kings of men. I assure you that."

He called Elladan who had Estel in his arms. "Take him to the gardens, son. Let him breathe the fresh air. I want him to enjoy almost everything he can at this age for surely in a year or two, he must start to learn and in his training his time shall be consumed. He shall not have a normal childhood unlike others. He must be different."

The twins nodded. "As you wish, father." They bowed.

Elrond smiled. "Keep him company. Sing him songs so he may remember. Soothe his mind and clear his heart with memories of the past. He must forget."

"Forget?" asked Elrohir.

"Lady Gilraen here tells me Estel has nightmares about Arathorn. He must forget until the time is ready when his heritage shall be told to him. For now, both of you must have separate identities. Nobody can know that you both live yet and especially it should not fall into the hands of the Enemy. Elladan, when you go out, send Figwit to me."

The twins bowed again and left the hall with Estel through the eastern door. Gilraen stayed behind. Elrond looked at her.

"Hope he shall be as his name tells. He shall be your hope, lady. You have known this all along. He shall be the hope of his people. And for that he must be kept safe and hidden. I am sure you understand that. Now you must take rest, lady. Sleep while you can and heed no worries."

Gilraen bowed. "As you say, lord."

Saying, she left the hall, her footfalls hurried yet silent.

As soon as Gilraen had left the hall, Figwit entered. He was a tall elf with long black hair. He was fair and his build was nimble. He was clad in silver and black with a chain of gold hanging by his neck upon a red neck-scarf. His bright blue eyes were sharp and his stare piercing.

"My Lord Elrond, Elladan told me I was wanted." He said, in his fair musical voice.

"Yes, Figwit. I must ask when does your Company go into the Wild?"

"Some three days hence, my lord."

"Then I need you to do something. You will spread word to the Wandering Companies and to any Dunedain Rangers you meet in Eriador that the line of Isildur has failed. That Aragorn is dead and the kings of men are no more. Ask also those companies which travel east of the mountains to do the same through Mirkwood and Lothlorien and other realms that maybe found along the way. Somehow or the other, the Enemy will know of it and will soon cease any hunts in Eriador."

Figwit looked in wonder at the elven lord and said, "As you wish, sire."

Elrond nodded and said, "When you go west, I want you to meet Hallor, the acting Chieftain of the Dunedain. These words you shall speak to him but I must implore you to keep this meeting discrete. No word of it should reach the ears of any that roam the wild. This meeting should be between you and Hallor alone."

Figwit nodded.

"You shall say to Hallor then that the line of Isildur has not failed and when time comes right, Aragorn shall be returned to the Dunedain but ask of him that he says of this to none, even to Dirhael and Aragorn's other relatives that yet live. Nobody should know Aragorn still lives and dwells in Imladris. Only he has to know."

Figwit nodded.

"Go now then. Sooner you spread the news, the safer the realms shall be. Then we could think the clearer of what should be done about the Enemy. The main agenda we have now is to protect the royal line at all costs. That should not be revealed, for in Estel lies the hope of men. If he succeeds the tests of his life, he shall be a great king of men, greatest that has ever been since the days of Elendil. If he fails, he and all of his race shall be doomed to the shadows and none could see their rise ever again, atleast not in the future that I can see."

Figwit remained silent and absolute. He peered into the eyes of Elrond and saw truth in them, they who had seen much of the agony of Endor.

"I shall go as soon as I can, my lord. Perhaps, I shall set out sooner than I said before."

Elrond smiled. "May the Valar protect you and safe may your journey be."

Figwit bowed and left the room, his demeanor noble and his shoulders high.

Elrond looked around the hall, only to see Erestor crouched in a chair, peering over old maps.

Elrond approached him. "Lord Erestor, how fares our patrolling?"

Erestor looked up and said, "It fares good, my lord. There have been no sightings of the Enemy. The mountains are silent. I know not what it portends but our scouts report nothing. The High Pass is desolate and the Redhorn as before, emptied of wolves."

Elrond sighed. "This is too good to be true, do you not think so? I wonder what the Enemy intends to do. Does he mean to come into Eriador into full force?"

"I hope not, Lord Elrond. If he comes against us in full force, we would be hard beset to hold it off. The Dunedain are too few to avail us and they have all retreated towards the west."

"Then we must move other pawns. We must occupy the Enemy."

"How is the question, my lord? We have not the means to contest the Enemy in one force."

"I did not say we. I mean to send a message to King Thranduil of Mirkwood."

"Mirkwood doesn't have that much force, my lord."

"I know that. But I am speaking about secret ambush. The Orcs roam the Wilderland, I am sure of. The Elves have just to kill their scout parties. If the plan I spoke of to Figwit pays off, Sauron may yet be fooled."

"You mean to put a cloak over Eriador, my lord."

"Yes. I plan for the Wandering Companies to watch over Eriador like the Dunedain used to. Since they have gone back west, Eriador lays empty except for the hillmen. I would want those villages protected. The Enemy should not reach Eriador. Increase the patrols."

"But, Lord Elrond, over time the patrols will grow weary. The menace has to be ended once and for all."

"I fear that is yet far away, Lord Erestor. For now, we have to weather the storm that draws nigh. We must keep Sauron occupied for now."

Erestor nodded. "I will give your commands to the lancers, my lord. They shall ride out and look over Eriador."

Elrond looked at Erestor deeply. "Do as you think best, Lord Erestor."

Saying, he went to the westward door and out of the hall, leaving Erestor to ponder his message.

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	20. Chapter - 19: Estel Is A Young Boy

**CHAPTER – 19  
ESTEL IS A YOUNG BOY**

March 28 Year 2936 T.A.

A five year old Estel raced across the hall into a corridor, laughing as he did. The twin sons of Elrond pursued him, almost gaining on the little child, although they ran much slower than they usually did. In no time, Elrohir had picked Estel up who gave a loud laugh as he was lifted. Elrohir smiled and turned Estel in his hands, now his face staring at Estel's.

In these years that Estel stayed in Imladris, they had grown to love him as their own brother. Estel looked more an elf than he did a man, his face fair and proud, a light in his eyes and black wavy eyes lengthening to his neck. The aura around him was different to the men the twins had ridden with, even the Dunedain. As Lord Elrond, their father, had told them, they did believe. A true man of Numenor had been born once again in the kind of men. And true it was, they knew and saw.

Estel was laughing in Elrohir's hands, now tightly grasping his hips. Elladan caressed his hair lovingly. Estel looked at them, a happy look on his face which the twin brothers would never forget. Too busy were they in their ceaseless campaign against the orcs, ever remembering the torture of their mother in their dens. Never before in the long years that had passed them by had they found any time for recreation. Not until Estel came to Rivendell. Ever since, they looked after him, gave Estel the love that was needed. This they made not only because their father had asked them to watch over the heir of kings and safeguard him from the thoughts which still rent the youngling's heart but also because they had come to love him in their own way. As is elsewhere told, Estel was having nightmares and ever in the lonely watches of the night, when other people slept, he would awake and scream about his father's long sleep. Although Estel was happy during the day and played along with the other elves, Elrond had perceived the sadness in the child's heart which ever wondered where his father was and why he slept so long. The child was too young to understand death; a thing which even the elves could not comprehend fully. So Elrond had asked his sons to occupy his time, observe him, notice his talents and hone him for the great destiny being prepared for him. Ever since Estel had come to Imladris, the twins seldom had gone out ranging and it eased their father to see that they were carefree after a really long time. Elrond had not seen them so happy in a very long time, not since their mother's unfortunate capture by the orcs in the passes of the Misty Mountains.

Estel kept laughing. He was ever such a child, full of mirth and happiness, as if all cares mattered not. And this child brought much laughter in the homely fortress. He was the only child there and the elves rejoiced in him. For no man had ever grown so closely with the elves than Estel since the days of Isildur.

Elrohir puckered Estel's nose with his. Elladan looked at his brother doing that and he remembered his elder sister doing the same thing to them when they were little kids. The memories brought him a huge smile and he beckoned his brother to hand Estel over to him. Elrohir looked at his with raised eyebrows and laughed. Carrying Estel on his shoulders, he ran pursued by Elladan.

"Come on now, brother. The time is mine to hold."

"If you want him, brother, come and claim him. I wouldn't give him up so easily. He is mine." replied Elrohir.

Elladan fumed. "Brother, come on now. Estel is as a brother to me as he is to you. I want to hold him and see him as he is. He also likes my company, probably more than yours."

"Really?" asked Elrohir. "I do not think so, El. See him now. He laughs. He is happy with me."

"He will be happier with me, Ro. Give him to me."

Estel watched, his eyes fluttering from brother to brother, laughing.

"What makes you say that, El? Happier with you? I doubt that. Everyone know I am the fun one, you are the grave one."

"So you say."

"So I say. Although these words have been heard from the mouths of others."

"Tongues speak, Ro, oft of the things they do not know. I can be fun when needed. You, however, are filled with sarcasm and hilarity even when the times are grave and it is wholly unnecessary in certain situations."

"Oh, see here. We are playing with Estel and now you give your arguments, however philosophical. Have some fun, El."

"I would if you hand over Estel to me."

"What would I do then? Watch you lecture little Estel with your unnecessary talk? Oh no, I wouldn't and you know that pretty well, I guess."

"Would you now let me play with Estel? It has been long and young Estel brings back memories."

"Memories! Ah, of when we were little and you were so much fun. I still remember, you used to go into the kitchens and steal food from the larders. Those were the days and you used to get spanked by father."

"Surely, little brother, this must bring unto you the uttermost happiness. Why don't you reminisce over those moments while I play with Estel?"

"Oh, so you want me to make fun of you while you play with this child of men? I cannot begin to wonder. Maybe I should. Making fun of you is as entertaining as playing with Estel, if not better. Take him now. Let us see how happy he can be around you."

Elladan smirked. "If you think I cannot…."

He could not complete it for they saw their father approach. Elrond neared them and said, "Well, if you two have not been fighting over little Estel here, I would wish for your audience."

The twins bowed, almost shamed. Estel let out a ponderous laugh which made Elrond look at him and smile. "Come here, Estel, with me you shall be for now. The twins can await their turn. For a father also must have time for his son."

Elrohir handed little Estel to his father who picked him up with a huge smile upon his face.

"Come on young lad, to your mother you must go. For now."

"Mama" Estel cried.

"Yes, mama. She waits for you, Estel. You are the apple of her eyes and she longs to see you."

Estel cried again. "Mama"

Elrond laughed. "Lindir, take Estel to Lady Gilraen, will you?"

Lindir nodded and took Estel off Elrond's arms.

"Adar" this time Estel cried. Elrond smiled. Adar was the only elvish word Estel had learnt till now. Elladan and Elrohir had taught him that and Estel had picked it up quick.

They saw Estel led away quickly by Lindir. Their eyes were locked upon them for so long as Estel was visible. When they disappeared from view, Elrond turned towards his sons and penetrated them with deep eyes.

"So, my sons, if you are done with whose turn it is to play with Estel, may I have a word with you?" Elrond was being a little sarcastic.

The twins bowed and said, "Of course, father."

Elrond nodded. "Come with me then."

Elrond led the twins down many corridors, zigzagging their way along, until they reached a small chamber. Lord Glorfindel was already there. So was Erestor.

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances with each other. Something was amiss, it was clear.

They entered the chamber which was filled with a clear exuberant air.

"What is it, father?" asked Elladan.

Elrond sighed. "You know verily of our plans to divert the attention of the Enemy from the lands of Eriador. So far, we have been successful. The Enemy indeed believes that the line of Isildur has finally failed and there have been less of his forays into the lands west of the Mountains. The Passes lie still yet. So it has been since three years. Except for occasional orc sightings, there is no activity. But yesterday, scouts from Lothlorien reached us and they brought us tidings. The orcs of the Mountains are gathering near the fields of Gladden."

Silence spread across the chamber. All of their heads were bent in grave thought, pondering the news.

"Gladden?" asked Elrohir.

"Is not that the place where Isildur fell? What does the Enemy seek?" asked Elladan.

Glorfindel spoke then. "Now that he is led to believe that the royal line of Numenor has failed and all its descendants sent beyond the Circles of the World, he believes in gathering back his power of old. He seeks one thing. He knows of Isildur's fall now. He knows where he fell. I would not wonder if he chose Dol Goldur for this very singular purpose."

"The Enemy seeks for Isildur's Bane. That which he lost when Isildur severed the Black Hand." continued Elrond.

"We must stop him." fumed Elrohir.

Glorfindel looked grave. "That would indeed confirm his suspicions, Elrohir. He knows that Isildur fell near the Gladden. He only suspects that which he lost maybe found there. If we attack, his suspicion is put to rest and it will become certain to him that Isildur's Bane is still believed to be deep within the swift river. Then his attack will be sevenfold and he shall scourge the Great River for it, north to south."

Elrond sighed. "But even we know not whether it still lies beneath those swift flowing waters. As Saruman spoke during the last meeting of the White Council, it might have rolled off into the Sea. For all we know, Isildur's Bane may have been lost forever, for us and for the Enemy also."

"But Mithrandir was ever eager to move against the Enemy. Some doubt must he have had in his heart then." said Erestor.

"And rightly so. Fear can creep into the hearts of even the Istari when the Shadow reaches its hand to the thing that he so valued and which was lost. Moreover, I think had we done so, Arathorn might have lived to survive the day." said Glorfindel.

"If we had, if we had not, they are not the questions we must answer this day. What we must answer is what we are to do with this information that has been given us?" asked Elrond.

"I would advise to lay still." replied Erestor.

"And leave the Enemy free to search the River? I think not. If He finds It, then there can be no freedom from the Shadow." said Elrohir.

"Yes, but even if we do something, the Enemy might increase his searches." piped Elladan.

Elrond huffed. "Difficult choices lie before us now. What choice we make here determines the success of our plans till now made."

Glorfindel rose from his seat. "I guess we should do both. We must confuse the Enemy as we have done till now."

"But how?" asked Erestor.

Glorfindel smiled. "We shall let him search the fields of Gladden but we also ask Mirkwood to scale up their ambushes on the orc camps. Sauron shall be confused then on which threat to tackle first."

"If It is what he most values, then is it not imperative that Sauron shall choose the Gladden?" asked Erestor.

"True, Erestor, but there is another plan to it. We must resort to our last weapons."

Elrond looked at Glorfindel with furrowed brows. "Are you asking me subtly to wield Vilya to confuse our enemies?"

Glorfindel shook his head. "No, Master Elrond. Not Vilya. We must ask the others."

Elrond looked at Glorfindel and saw what he meant. "So it be, then. We confuse the counsels of the Enemy. Erestor, send scouts as far as you can to the fields of Gladden. Let me know what the orcs are doing, how many there are, who commands them? Use our swiftest and well-trained scouts. Once the reports have come, I shall ask who I shall ask."

"We will go, father" said Elladan and Elrohir together.

Elrond looked at them. "So you will. I know you have longed to go outside of Imladris for some months now. Ever since Estel has come into the house, you have rarely felt the need. Ah! Changes the young children bring. This home is surely lightened by this young child of men."

Glorfindel smiled. "Estel is a lively young boy now. It is time for him to start his training, don't you think, Master Elrond?"

Elrond nodded. "Yes, it is time. Estel shall start soon. And yes, you my sons, you will go into the wilderland east of the Mountains and bring to me reports of the Enemy's doings. Then you shall come fast to Imladris. I would require you both to train Estel and this might be your last journey outside. You will be needed here then."

The twins nodded and picking up their bearings, they left the chamber.

"So free of care they now are since Estel has come here. I am glad to see that. They have become less reckless and more prudent." remarked Elrond.

"Yes, they have." said Erestor.

Glorfindel smiled again. "This young child of the Edain has won the hearts of the Firstborn. This hath not happened since the days of Turin and Tuor. Great he shall be I deem."

"Aye" they all said.

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	21. Chapter - 20 : Of A Mission In The East

**CHAPTER – 20  
OF A MISSION IN THE EAST**

The forests were dark. Whether it was morning or night, few could tell. There was little gap between the trees and the path was broken at many points. He could not say how deep he was in. He was sure that he had taken the Old Forest Road but that was now not to be seen. He had crossed the Enchanted River and then he had gone as east as he could. He was sure of it.

To have come this far unchallenged troubled him and now that the path was lost, he was beginning to get worried. To the south were the spiderling lairs if rumor was to be believed and then the Necromancer's hold. He would not want to go there and in any case, it was far from his destination.

He decided to turn northward but even then, in his heart, he was doubtful. He did not how deep eastward he was.

He wandered through the forest; tagging his steed along, a white horse he had named Rohyn. He sighed as he walked. He was already weary. Four days ride from Rivendell he was and had ridden fast. Through the High Pass he had come and then he had thanked his fate. No signs of goblins or orcs he found but that was not the purpose he was sent for. He was to approach King Thranduil of Mirkwood and deliver to him Lord Elrond's message.

He was getting no nearer. His food pack was almost empty and he dared not drink the waters of Mirkwood. He drank sparingly from a brown pouch belted to his waist what little water that remained.

Turn north he did. Through narrow paths, often broken, he led his horse. He hoped to find the hidden halls of the forest king which he knew were nearby yet it seemed far away. He was walking thus, alone and weary, his shoulders sagging, when a bunch of elves hooded in green cloaks pointed their arrows at him. He raised his hands, palm outward in surrender and as token of friendship. He looked around, his eyes going hither and thither, searching the group for the leader.

A golden haired elf came swiftly forward. He recognized him his gray eyes. Here was the son of the King himself.

"Elen sila lumenn omentielvo, Legolas." He said.

Legolas bowed slightly and replied, "Aiya Hir, Gildor Inglorion."

Gildor smiled. "I have come by long ways thus eastward, journeying through perilous realms, yet I am greeted like a foe, Legolas Thranduilion. I do not doubt that your elvish sight marked me as a friend and a Noldor of the West."

Legolas hung his head down. "I am ashamed of this deed, Gildor Inglorion. Truly I am. But dangers beset us and the sorcerers roam the Greenwood. They walk among us turning shapes."

For a moment Gildor was alarmed. "Shapeshifters?" he asked.

"Ai! They roam these woods and hunt down our people. They are not too many yet a danger to us. The Necromancer has a strong hold down south and he has brought many men from the East into his service, teaching them sorcery and dark arts."

Gildor wore now a thoughtful look on his face. "I have heard of Sauron himself changing shapes. Some swore he was a werewolf. He is a spirit of this world and that was ages ago. Now he is but a shadow of himself yet he has grown powerful in his own ways. His dark will still works in this world."

Legolas nodded. "Yet now he rules the southern fiefs of our kingdom, taking it for his own. Fouler things prowl there. Wolves, orcs, goblins and men. Only recently, he has started ambushing us wherever we set up our camps. But there are also other things in this forest, Gildor Inglorion, that do not work Sauron's will."

Gildor furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

"Spiders. They roam the lands just a few miles south of here. Huge they are. Our bows are not deadly enough to sting them to death."

"Ah! They are the spawn of Ungoliant I guess. Fled from the ruin of Beleriand. That is terrible news. Well, we have stayed here in one place too long. Will you not now take me to your halls for I have a message to deliver to your father?"

Legolas nodded. "Yes, I will. Message, you say?"

"Yes, from Lord Elrond of Imladris."

"Come with me then, Hir Gildor."

Gildor followed the elves who led him upon swifter paths. The hidden halls it seemed was not too far away. Gildor had never been east of the Hithaeglir, keeping to the western lands of Middle Earth, wandering and safeguarding the lands of Eriador and Lindon.

The elven halls of Mirkwood were hidden and delved in caves in the small hills. They were made by dwarves it was said, those who once lived in the Lonely Mountain before the dragon came. The door closed behind them as they walked through the small corridor into the great hall of the king. There were elves talking and making merry. One or the other elf would wave to Gildor and bow. Gildor would offer them back the same courtesy. The group of elves which had escorted him since the forest path broke and went away to meet fellow elves save Legolas.

King Thranduil sat on a huge chair, his body leaning forward, his right hand upon his thighs. Tall and slender, he had golden hair lengthening upto his shoulders and a green crown upon his forehead. When he saw Gildor approach, he rose from his seat and laughing, greeted him. "Welcome, Gildor Inglorion of the House of Felagund. Long has your kindred gained favor in the erstwhile realm of Doriath when Finrod was king in Nargothrond. And now when they are no more, still you have our good concerns. You are welcome here, Gildor, most welcome."

Gildor bowed. "I thank thee, Thranduil King, son of Oropher. It heartens me to see you fare well and so your realm although peril endangers the peace or so I have heard. It is long since we met."

Thranduil smiled. "Too long, I say, even for the elves. Last we met was when I parted from you in Lindon after the Last Alliance. The Lindon elves were leaving the shores and Gil-galad was dead. My father too. So as you know, I came here to take up my father's mantle. Yes, that is the last time and my memory is somewhat vague."

"If this is indeed vague." said Gildor.

Thranduil laughed.

"So you come here bearing messages, I hear."

"You have heard then."

"So I have heard. Tell me, Gildor Inglorion. What brings you east of the Mountains, far from the place you abide?"

"As you well guess, my lord."

"Messages from Rivendell then."

Gildor nodded.

Thranduil looked at him. "So what does Elrond Half-elven have to tell me? Speak, my friend."

"As you know, my lord, Sauron's power grows in the South."

Thranduil spat. "Curse him, the servant of Melkor. After all these years we fought him, he still lives to trouble us and our counsels."

Gildor nodded sadly. "Dol Goldur is growing. Soon, he will become too strong for you to withhold though he is but a shadow of his former power."

Thranduil nodded. "He is powerful. We know that. He sends his cursed sorcerers into these woods, killing our fair people."

"We have information to believe that the Dark Lord has chosen the fastness of Dol Goldur for purposes we have only yet come to know."

Thranduil and Legolas frowned.

"Dol Goldur is a strategic point, my lord. He sees hope in his victory in the North. That victory which he cannot achieve in the South, not now, while Gondor remains strong and with powerful allies. He sees hope in the weakened realms of the elves. If he could capture the entire North, he can yet bring ruin. Rivendell would be under threat and so would the dwarves and the men who yet dwell near."

"This we all know. We cannot succeed against his strength alone but we must hope." said Legolas.

"If Sauron succeeds, he would bring utter ruin upon us all. Not only that, I fear for Erebor."

"Erebor? It is now ruled by the Dragon."

"And Sauron might use him against us. That is my deadly fear but the White Council forbids war."

Thranduil cursed.

Gildor fell silent for a while before continuing, "But the Dragon is not our concern. We do not know all of the Enemy's counsels but we have reason to believe he is not ready yet, not strong enough to control the Dragon. So he bides his time and until then, we have hope. But that is not what I meant to deliver. The second point is Sauron is aware of the long lost realm of Arnor. News surely must have reached you of Arathorn's death. The line of Elendil has failed and the men of Numenor now have no leader. Gondor is ruled by Stewards. Arnor had chieftains and kings but they too are lost. Sauron's arm reached long, even westward in Eriador."

The two elves had fallen silent. Legolas was grieved. He had met Arathorn many times in Mirkwood and other lands. In time he had come to love him in his own ways.

"Now that the royal line has failed and we have been able to keep the peace in Eriador for now, Sauron's Eye shall turn to you soon, if not sooner. Dol Goldur is near and its strength one day shall be great enough to devour this fair land, my lord. Your defenses must be strengthened."

Thranduil surveyed Gildor yet he said nothing.

"Already, I hear, there have been many skirmishes on your southern borders. For now, Sauron's threat is stayed but we know not what the future holds."

"So, Elrond sends us this message. Is he planning a move on the Enemy?" asked Legolas.

"Nay, Legolas. We are not strong enough to assail the dark fortress. Our plan is to confuse the Enemy, divert him to other things. When the time comes and may it come fast, the North will be rid of him or so we hope but until that time comes, we must resort to secret ambushes."

Thranduil still remained silent.

"Lord Elrond asks you to send as many scouting parties as possible. He asks you to mount short attacks on the Enemy to keep him occupied. He asks you to remind the Enemy that you are still strong, strong enough to repel him."

"But surely, the Enemy will resort to open war if we do that and when the final war comes, we will be hard beset."

"Maybe, Legolas. I do not ask you to challenge the Enemy into open combat. I only ask you to mount the sorties. Destroy any camps that remain in places under your father's rule. For the time being at least, until other messages come."

"Tell me, Gildor Inglorion. This smells of a diversion. Why divert the Enemy to us?" asked Thranduil.

"King Thranduil, I do not presume to know anything. The Wise among us think Sauron primarily chose Dol Goldur to be his fastness to end the royal line, the elven kingdoms and most importantly, to find his lost treasure."

Thranduil sat down in grave thought. "So, he is searching Gladden, I presume."

"His forces are too strong for us. We received certain messages from the Golden Wood. The Enemy searches the Great River. His orcs have been seen. When you mount your attacks, my lord, Sauron shall be turned towards you."

"And what do you presume to do then, Gildor?"

"We shall establish our camps, my lord."

Thranduil stood up. "I shall heed Elrond's wishes. But know this, Gildor Inglorion, if this plan fails and Sauron marches on us, you are to blame and the elven wise of Imladris."

"I understand, lord, but the Enemy's forces are far from ripe. But if the Enemy regains what is his, then we shall never see freedom again and there will be utter darkness and shadow."

Thranduil turned towards Legolas. "Son, go and tell Turiel to prepare the attack parties. They shall be mostly forest rangers for secrecy is of concern."

Legolas nodded, bowed and then left.

Thranduil then turned towards Gildor. "Come, my friend, you have journeyed far and long. Rest ye shall now and partake some of our finest wine. A feast is being prepared as we speak."

"Weary I am after long rides through the pathless forests. Hunger besets me for I have felt strange as I have not felt before. But now it seems I shall be satiated."

Thranduil laughed. "You have smelled the Enchanted River. Too much ill does it do to living beings, elf or man. Even we who live near seldom go near it. We find other paths but they are increasingly beset with spiderlings. But come now, friend, to the feast we shall go. Tonight, your stomach shall be full."

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	22. Chapter - 21: In The Withered Heath

**CHAPTER – 21  
IN THE WITHERED HEATH**

Cursed feet stomped upon the icy lands far north of the greenlands. The earth trembled as they went past, destroying everything in their way, not that anything ever grew there in that desolate region. The ground was white, covered with snow, save for the occasional brown.

They were running as fast they could but they were bowed down by the heavy armor made of thick steel. Scimitars they had with green tips, belted to their waists and some of them carried short bows with a quiver of black arrows hanging behind their shoulders.

They were not tall enough. With short and crooked legs, they ran. Their mails tinkled like the sound of many bells. The leader however was tall and had a big black whip on his hands which he would use on his followers if any lagged behind.

The leader gave a hideous cry and raised his foul hand. The followers stopped, some of them crashing into each other.

"Order." The leader shouted. He removed his steel helmet which revealed his face. Covered with swollen skin, he had one nostril on his nose. Complete bald he was with small strands of white hair sprouting here and there. His one eye was swollen while the other eye was sharp and blue. He spat on the ground. White saliva ensued from his black broken lips. Gothmog they called him and most of them feared him. He was ruthless and not at all merciful.

Twenty days back, the orcs of the Mountains had received orders from their Master. What the orders were no orc knew except for Gothmog. Gothmog had gathered what he could of his tribe and swiftly issued from their mountain caves just north of Gladden. Journeying beside the Great River for ten days, they had reached the northern foothills of the Grey Mountains. There was a lone hill standing far aloft. They knew it was Mount Gundabad, their old haunt. Very few lived there now. Gothmog had no idea how many. But that was not their destination. From that point on they had turned eastward. But their journey had been slow. A storm issued from nowhere and their going was hampered. For five days, the storm did not abate. The Orcs were refusing to march despite the harsh orders of Gothmog. So they had been delayed and ever since the last two days, Gothmog had been driving them hard, first east and then north.

Gothmog feared his Master's retribution and punishment if he was too much delayed. He had received orders to find out any trace of dragons in the Withered Heath. If there were, they were to bring news of it to him.

Gothmog was a smart captain of orcs. He knew dragons would be great help in their wars against the West. He did not love the elves or men. They had ruthlessly killed his people. Gothmog's father had died on the slopes of Mount Doom in the distant land of Mordor where the shadows lie. Men had killed him. He had vowed revenge then but his Master had disappeared and not for ages had he come back. So he had led his tribe high into the Misty Mountains, hiding in tunnels and caves when he deemed the time right and his army would ensue out of the Mountains upon his enemies. But then the Shadow had begun to grow in the southern fastness of Mirkwood and its emissaries had found Gothmog and his tribe. Gothmog had feared them who came. Cloaked in black, they scared people out of their wits. Gothmog had shuddered then and given up his own designs of a kingdom, ready to serve his former Master. Now he was sent here to the northern wastelands to search if he could the trace of the fire breathing birds if any remained.

Sauron's plans were ripening fast and he meant to ruin the entire North. He wanted to seek the aid of the Dragons if any yet remained upon Middle Earth. Sauron did know about Smaug the Golden but he did not approach the Dragon of Erebor yet. Sauron knew Smaug would be difficult to convince. He already had what he wanted. The treasures of Erebor and Dale. Smaug could wait. At the least until, he had other dragons and beasts under his command.

Most of the orcs in the Company grumbled and their cries were harsh. Their eyes were sharp and most of them were golden yellow. Their lips were black and their teeth, yellow in color, were shaped like short fangs.

The northern wastelands were huge; the lands stretched for leagues to the north and east. The region was hilly, comprising of snowy ridges. Mountains loomed here and there, their peaks shiny white. The walls of the mountains were deep grey, in some regions brown, filled with deep crevices.

The valleys were bare and the ground covered with snow. No trees grew there and occasionally a weird shrub could be seen.

It was night now and the skies were clear with bright twinkling stars.

Gothmog grunted. "We have had nothing but this maggoty bread for nine stinky days."

Orcs jeered.

One came forward. "Yes, now why can't we have some packed meat?"

Gothmog yelled. "They are not for eating."

"If not eating, then for what?"

"This is prey for the beasts."

The orc spat. "Must we run hungry then?"

Gothmog looked down upon the orc.

"Yes, you maggot. Run you shall otherwise you shall feel the whip."

Gothmog lashed his whip at the ground.

The orc cowered in front of him and took a few paces backward.

"You do not complain of what you get to eat. Eat ye shall after this quest is over. Understood, you filthy scoundrels?"

The orcs jeered again.

"Good. Now get your feet up and run, now that we have had a little rest. Through the night and north, north we go. As fast you all can, you sluggards. Come on now, get your filthy feet off the ground and pick your luggage, you lazy filth. Run, run till you see the signs."

They were about to depart when they heard horses stomping the grounds not far away. Orcs could see far and they saw a band of twenty riding hard upon nimble horses.

"Get out your bows, you niggards. Put your arrows to them. We don't want to get ridden over, do we?" shouted Gothmog.

The orcs notched their arrows to their short bows. Their eyes betrayed fear yet they stood, listening to the fast approaching hooves. The horse however were pulled and stopped; they were out of bowshot. They neighed and from over them alighted twenty tall figures. They were men, the orcs figured.

The orcs started yelling and jeering. Gothmog lashed his whip again and cried, "Silence!"

The orcs cowered under the loud voice and looked hither and thither. The men approached. They bore a white flag and at its centre was embroidered a red eye.

Gothmog felt relieved and said, "Lower your bows. These are friends."

The orcs looked at their leader and cowed.

Gothmog rushed to the forward and said, "Who goes there and what be your purpose? You hinder our journey and we better not be delayed unless you want us to feast on your flesh."

One of the men shouted back. "Delayed are you, nonetheless, and the Master's anger is unabated. We have reached here faster than you maggots. We should have been given this job in the first place. You are useless."

Gothmog became furious. "You are not in a position to carry out threats. Get your rabble out of here or deliver your message quick. We are on a quest."

The man smiled. "The Master asks us to aid you in finding the beasts of the north if any yet remain. For that we have come."

Gothmog spat. "Men among orcs. I think not. Go your way and leave it to us. For we are the real servants of our Master."

"Real or no, only time shall prove. In this, we have got to work together. We are friends, Gothmog of the Mountains. We have a common purpose. To be rid of the West once and for all."

Gothmog's eye bulged. "All right, you filth, come along then."

The men smiled. "So much for smooth entry" he said.

"How can you offer aid, manlings?"

"We know of a certain beast in the crags of a mountain just forty leagues north of here. We must reach those valleys ere the dawn rises."

Gothmog pondered it. "This better not be a trick."

"No tricks, Gothmog. Trust us."

"Trust you? I think so."

The man smiled. "At least in this, Gothmog. As I said before, we have common purpose."

Gothmog replied, "All right, all right, get your rabble sorted then, we run fast. Delayed we are, now."

The men nodded and mounted their horses and started to ride towards the horde of orcs.

They had just gone a few furlongs when a whistle sounded. The sound was like the cry of owls.

Gothmog raised his broad sword. "Keep your arms at the ready." He shouted.

Before they could, a hail of arrows met them. Many orcs fell and men too. The arrows seemed to be coming from everywhere. Gothmog shuddered. Who were this people? His orcs were being killed and very few remained who looked to flee.

Within no time, only Gothmog and the leader of men who had come from the east remained. Gothmog spat, fear crept into his heart.

An arrow gutted Gothmog right in his stomach. His face contorted in pain, letting out a gasping sound. He pulled the arrow out of the stomach. "Another day" he shouted and fled from the place, holding his stomach by his bare hands, black blood dripping onto the snowy grounds. The man however refused to flee. They had let the orc get away, which surprised him. Then he heard a hideous cry. He saw Gothmog's head upon the ground, rolling. He was surrounded by all sides. A group of men, hooded and cloaked, approached him.

The man smirked. "Dunedain" he cried and spat.

The leader of that group came forward. "Bind him." He said. "Tightly so he does not escape. We shall go now to our encampment in the west."

"I thought you all were dead." Spat the man.

"Dead? Not in your dreams, easterling. While hope remains, we fight."

The man laughed. "What hope do you have? Your royal line is now severed and your people roam leaderless in the silent woods. Very soon shall your doom come."

The leader looked at him gravely. "Plaster his mouth. He shall only speak when he is being asked. Come on, we must move fast. West and south, to the wilderland."

The men did as their leader commanded and put a black scarf around his mouth and dragged him away into the night.

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	23. Chapter - 22 : Gildor's Counsels

**CHAPTER – 22  
GILDOR'S COUNSELS**

Gildor woke up early that morning. The sun was not up yet and there was but a faint light in the eastern sky. He preferred to sleep under the starry skies beneath the canopies of the thick forests than to lie in the stony halls. He yawned. He had had a deep sleep, one he had not since many days. His weariness was now fled and his body was agile once more. He stretched out his hands and picking up his bearings, he left towards the halls.

The gates were guarded by doughty elves clad in red and gold armor. They bore sharp glinting spears in their hands and at their belts were two short but sharp knives, its steel runed. They bowed as Gildor passed by. The morning wind was blowing swift and cold, scattering the autumn leaves into the hall.

The halls of Mirkwood were fashioned like a fortress of old. Delved inside the hills, it reminded him of old Nargothrond though this was but a poor imitation of it. Thranduil's father had lived once in Nargothrond before its fall and through him, Thranduil had heard of its glory and wisdom. Though when Oropher was ruling in Mirkwood, his house was one of the houses thatched with the leaves of the trees and stony shelves. But when Thranduil became King, he had the dwarves build him a fortress inside the hills in northern Mirkwood. Thranduil was quite friendly with the dwarves in that time. And he paid them well for their service. But when the Dragon came from the North, Thranduil was filled with foreboding and in time he remembered Doriath and Nogrod and Belegost and Eregion and Moria. Wherever the dwarves thronged in numbers, evil gathered and ever since the Dragon ruled the Lonely Mountain, he had a great foreboding that one day, it would come for them. For that, he blamed the dwarves although he knew it was no fault of theirs. Also, after the desolation, the dwarves refused to uphold their ends of the contract. They had refused to service the halls of the elven king, to keep the maintenance, as they had promised. Even Dain Ironfoot, he who was the most just among the dwarves, had refused his summons. Since that day, Thranduil estranged himself from them and viewed them suspiciously.

Notwithstanding his loathing of the dwarves, he still kept friendly relations with his neighbors, the men of Dale and Lake Town. He had become especially friendly with the Masters and trade flourished between them. But when yestereve Gildor Inglorion had brought grave counsel from the West, Thranduil was filled with foreboding again. He wondered whether the Necromancer would indeed seek an alliance with the Dragon of Erebor. And if there were any truth in this, then he would be hard beset. The men of Esgaroth would not avail him and besides, they were too few to combat the might of both Dol Goldur and Erebor. Elrond's plan seemed wise to him, for he knew in his heart that if the Enemy were to secure his lost treasure, he would become more powerful. Elrond's plan of diversion had been welcome for that reason. So he had convened a council at that morning hour, even though the sun had not come up the eastern horizon, and thither he, Gildor Inglorion of the House of Finrod Felagund, was to go.

Gildor knew Thranduil was convinced that Lord Elrond's plans were fruitful were they to ripen and the course of action was only wise. Even though most of the elves wanted to drive away the threat of the Enemy, they knew that after a brief respite the shadow would only come back.

Through many corridors he walked, he found not the King's Council. The throne hall was empty. But soon, an elf came by and directed Gildor to the king's own quarters at the far end of the fortress upon higher levels. When he had finally reached, he thanked the elf with all the gratefulness in his heart and was about to enter the huge room when he heard voices and to his surprise, the voices were that of a female elf.

"…I wish you would re-consider, my lord. We have not the forces to combat the orcs in the south. What with the sorcerer amidst them, our forces are demoralized. I still presume to tell you that the spiders are the greater threat for now. They come with poison and carry away our children, few now remain. I implore you, my lord, to abandon this insane plan. We cannot take on the might of the Enemy without any aid."

Gildor peeked into the room. A lady, dressed in all white, with golden tresses on her head, a golden belt carrying a long sword upon her hips, stood in front of the king. Legolas was beside her and he could not help but notice Legolas had eyes only for her. He chuckled silently.

Thranduil rose up. "The course of action I have proposed is wise. Even Elrond of Imladris says so."

The female elf frowned. "Imladris? Always we have to do what they say. I mean no disrespect for its lords but is not Imladris a separate country? They wish our well being they say and they give us words of comfort. Nay, my lord, we wish for swords and strong bows. Do they give us that? Tell me, my lord, why would a lord a country far from here be troubled on our accounts? First, we waged attacks on the Enemy to save a land of Men, far west of the Mountains. And now we mount another wave of attacks to create a diversion. My lord, do consider. It is our blood that is being spilt here. Would they send a strong force to reckon with, I would be happy indeed. But this is madness."

Legolas raised his brows. "If madness it be, Turiel, madness it is. We shall do as Lord Elrond bids and I pray you do so too. You think, Turiel, of military commandments only and in that job, you perform amicably. But even as a military general, my lady, you are short-sighted. You think of the dangers at present but were we to let the Enemy carry out his designs, he would be a greater danger than he is now."

Turiel frowned again. "Then why not fight and drive him out? We could always count on aid from our neighbors."

Thranduil smiled. He was reminded of the time when he was young. He had been a Captain-General in the army of Gil-galad and he had led the forces in the South. Ever rash was he, his designs to conquer Mordor were ever looked down upon by the High Kings. Now Turiel had taken after him.

"Nay, Turiel. No elf-country has the strength to challenge the Enemy into open combat. He has grown and we have dwindled."

Legolas smiled sadly. "The time of the elves is almost at an end, Turiel. It is not the dominion of men."

"Then why do we fight here? I have heard whispers among many who speak of the Sea and would love to sail to the Undying Lands." She asked.

Gildor came in. "Then would you, Turiel, my lady, abandon the men to the cunning of Sauron? Would you let them stand alone?"

"Men are weak, my lord. They are estranged from us and they would not aid us now. Gondor is strong, you say. But will it answer our calls?" asked Turiel

Gildor shook his head. "Nay, lady. Gondor would not. And it cannot for it is beset by its own dangers. The Numenorean kingdoms have all but no leader. Gondor is still strong. It may yet defy the Enemy, holding the West against Him. But when the final War comes, will it stand? Arnor is dwindled, the line of kings has failed. The Gifts have been taken away and the houses of the living turned to the dead. But would you then, seeking the longings of your heart, leave them so, helpless against one who would devour all? The alliances are dead, you say. Not wholly, my lady. Gondor and the southern kingdoms might be estranged from us but those of the north aren't."

"You mean Arnor, my lord. But Arnor has no aid to give us. To what avail are the rangers in the woods be?"

"You are short-sighted as Legolas said. You think of the well-being of your forces as is your wont. But, know this, the rangers have yet to play a final part. Whether it will end in good or evil, I know not." answered Gildor.

"Grave words, my lord. But think you this, is it not the hearts of men that are weak and easily corrupted? If the lost treasure were no more then would not this evil be destroyed? Isildur was weak. Yes, the tale of Isildur and his deeds has reached the ears of everyone in Middle Earth."

Gildor sighed. "You know of what you speak and you know very little. You are belittling Sauron's lost treasure in which he poured most of his malice and power. Even the elves will succumb to it were it to be carried by them. Over the men, it holds a greater power. Yes, Isildur should have strengthened his heart over the pressing desires but he sought to do good, not evil. He believed it could heal and he took it as a wereguild for his lost father and brother. Isildur is weak, sayeth you? No, lady, he was strong even in his prime. It was only Sauron's weapon was far stronger, beyond his reckoning. For it was evil since the beginning. You know not of the adventures of the Edain. Ages ago, they fought beside us. Have you forgotten Tuor and Turin and Hador Goldenhead and Haleth the Wise and Huor and Beren and Hurin and wise Barahir? Most brave deeds they did and for that they were gifted an isle in the Sea. Yes, it was lost in their own greed although they were deceived by the Enemy. They fought beside us in the Last Alliance and they did great deeds. They died beside us and also for us. Have you forgotten the aid Meneldur of Numenor rendered us when Sauron ravaged Eregion? You have a weak opinion of men, my lady, for you have never interacted with one much. You have met the Lake-men but they are a shadow of what the Edain actually are. The Lake-men only care for trade and coin. The men of the west are entirely different. They are wise in counts and they bear the knowledge of the west, still. So think you, my lady, were we to seek our hearts which forever lies in the uttermost West, would they be easy knowing that we have doomed our erstwhile friends into the cunning hands of our enemy of old?"

The room had fallen silent.

"The treasure is powerful indeed. It weakened Isildur. True, the Shadow rises again because he took what was once Sauron's. But think you, would the treasure be conceived if the elves had not thought about it first?"

Turiel frowned.

Gildor smiled. "The Noldor elves always were master craftsmen and still are. If we had not thought to heal the world of Melkor's hurts, would this have ever happened? Would we be slaves to the One Power? Would we be at the mercy of a singular piece of treasure? Maybe not. I do not blame the elves. Their intentions were good and noble yet I sometimes think such crafts were better left alone. The shadow of Morgoth still lies upon the earth even though he is now shut in the Void. Sauron deceived us all and in him, the darkness lies most powerful. We should have all gone into the West then, leaving Middle Earth but we stayed, Turiel, we stayed. We still looked to Middle Earth as our own and even though the Sea called us, we stayed back thinking we could rejoice in the peace once more and we set out to heal the world. But our designs went amiss that age and we were deceived. Then a power greater was made and even now after many years of men, it still is so. Since it is we who started the entire affair, do you not think it is our part to finish it, once and for all? We might succeed or we might fail. Either course of action is possible. But lady, we intend to stand by our friends, the men, once more. Even when we are far estranged. We will fight till our last breath and if we succeed then we shall set sail for the West, finding peace finally. But that time has not yet come and in order for such time to come, we must act now. The Enemy has great designs and his struggle for power is gaining speed. This course of action Lord Elrond proposes is wise, my lady. Think not that Imladris does not value the blood of your fair people. Swords we cannot give you for they are needed elsewhere. But hope we can."

"I second Gildor, my lady." said Legolas.

Turiel bowed. "As my lords command. But what if Sauron marches against us?"

Gildor shook his head. "He would not, my lady, for I am not proposing direct war. Only enough to divert the Enemy's attention towards you for a time. He might send forces against you but it would not be great enough. For he needs others for his other plots. He would only seek to test your strength and when he does, we must give him the illusion that Mirkwood is stronger than it is."

Thranduil smiled. "So it is decided then. Turiel, you shall lead your forces to the southern borders. Engage the Enemy as well you can until other messages come and the horns of retreat sounded."

Turiel bowed and left the room.

Gildor looked at the two silvan elves. "I must take my leave too, my lords."

Legolas laughed. "You are a fool indeed to believe we would let you go so soon. You shall stay here, my lord Gildor, even if I have to chain you up."

Gildor smiled. "Who can refuse the words of Legolas Thranduilion? I shall stay, young Prince."

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	24. Chapter - 23: Elven Tongues

**CHAPTER – 23  
ELVEN TONGUES**

It was year 2937 of the Third Age and Estel was ready for his training. Six years old he was and the life of the house. Merry was the mood in Imladris while he ran and laughed and cried and made mischief. It was as if life had sprung from a grave barrow. But now the time had come for him to be trained in the elven arts, for the elves to prepare a weapon deadlier than any that challenged Sauron since ages past, for the elves to deliver the men a final gift before they set sail for the Undying Lands.

They knew that either Estel would be the Enemy's Bane or the Dunedain would fall into a deep shadow never to rise again. And so the Wise of Imladris brought together every knowledge they could find together to impart to Estel. So, they devised a plan. Glorfindel would teach Estel the tongues of elves and men, the lays of the land, the maps of Middle Earth, and tales from the West. Erestor was a man of arms and would supervise Estel's training in the arts of warfare. Elladan and Elrohir would train Estel in the arts of swordplay and ranging. They would teach him all they can of the elves and also of the Dunedain. Finally, Elrond would instruct Estel in the arts of healing, of herbs and creatures.

Elladan had Estel's fingers wrapped up in his hands. Only of late had they returned from their journeys east. They had roamed up the Great River, scouting and reporting, killing orcs wherever they found, never forgetting their mother's torment in their dens. That was their last journey outside, they knew, having promised their father that they would look after Estel's upbringing.

Elladan brought Estel to a chamber in the far western end of the hidden fortress. Glorfindel, his brother Elrohir, his father Elrond and Erestor were already present in the chamber. Estel looked at them playfully, his round bulging eyes reminding Elrond exactly of his daughter. Elrond looked back at Estel with loving eyes and smiled.

Glorfindel surveyed Estel with great interest. Even he who had seen the light of Aman could sense the great destiny that lay with this child of man and he knew that he would be one of the greatest Edain that the world has ever seen since the days of Earendil. Today he would start teaching him, honing him in the elven ways. This full sixth year he would spend teaching Estel the different elvish dialects. He would teach him both the Quenya and the Sindarin. After that, he would move on to other tongues of men he knew, especially the Numenorean.

Glorfindel knelt beside Estel and looked direct into Estel's eyes. He moved his hands across the young boy's face and smiled. He then stood up and looked at Elrond and Erestor. "This boy is going to be unlike those men who I have met in this age of the world. A strange light exists within him. I know not what it is but the light within comforts me. He is a man by life and by destiny but he will always be an elf at heart, for I foresee that Estel will live long, even by the counts of the men of Middle Earth and any of the true blood of Numenor that yet remain in these shadow lands. Great deeds are upon him and only time shall tell whether he pass or fade."

Elrond looked at Glorfindel and said, "True you speak, Lord Glorfindel. Estel he is for he is the hope of his people but when the time comes, I doubt whether I will be able to part with this treasure I am bequeathed with. An elf at heart, you say. He already is. Maybe that is the light strange and by that, my heart is put to rest. Yet secrecy must be preserved and he must be trained and quicker we should be if we are to make him a weapon potent. For a foresight is also granted me and I see that little Estel here shall be the bane of many a plan hatched by the Enemy. A risk taker he will be but wise he will be also. Let us start then, my lords of Imladris. Let us not tarry anymore for time is also a swift river and of utmost essence."

Erestor smiled. "You speak of the time when it comes to parting, Lord Elrond. Part you shall and you must for he belongs to the Dunedain also. He is here but to be fostered. Yes, we have all grown emotionally attached to this child of men and it is our duty now to deliver him fully trained in our ways which we teach to very few. We must not worry for the time that is yet to come but look to our present. The parting will be hard, my lord Elrond but he will always speak of Rivendell as his home."

Elrond sighed. "Yes, that he will for this shall be his home and he shall be ever welcome, he and any that follow him in good faith." He went towards Estel who was jumping around Elladan, fondling his legs. "Come here, Estel. Ada wants to speak to you."

Estel knew only one word: Ada. His mother had taught him that and he had always referred to Elrond as Ada. Estel came hopping to Elrond, making Elrond laugh. "Still there is a childhood in you but it is fate's decree that you should forego the most playful parts." Elrond sighed again.

"Come here, Estel. Today, Uncle Glorfindel will show you something interesting."

"Interesting." said Estel, happily.

"Yes. Will you go with him? He shall take you on good paths."

Estel smiled. "Yes, I will, Ada." Turning to Glorfindel, "Where are we going, Uncle Findel?"

Glorfindel smiled. Estel had always called him Uncle Findel and he had not minded it. He even found it amusing sometimes. "Come here, Estel, hold my hands."

Estel did as he was bid.

Clasping Uncle Findel's hands tightly, Estel walked beside him. Glorfindel led Estel out of the chamber and into a wide corridor that wove its way into the north. The path was marbled and the walls shone with a golden light. Soon they came across a narrow path which took them into a small garden with a fountain of clear white water in the centre. Estel wanted to play in the water but Glorfindel refused him.

"I will allow you here later if you come with me now." He said when Estel was trying to cling to the fountain walls.

Estel reluctantly obeyed. As they walked forward, Estel kept seeing back until he stumbled on a stone seat and released a cry. Glorfindel watched Estel and said, "Never look back when you are walking forward, Estel. Especially at things which entrance you. They do more hurt than good."

Estel nodded silently, still clutching his knees which had struck hard upon the seat.

They entered through a wide doorway. The walls around were carved in gray stone. On one side of the corridor, the walls were absent giving free view to the hills beyond. On the other side, great monuments were sculpted depicting the events of the past. They were carved by master craftsmen as one could tell. The skills of the Noldor were unparalleled. Several statues and fortresses were sculpted out of mere stone. Glorfindel and Estel just walked them by until they reached a statue of a woman standing with bowed heads, clasping in her hands a small baby. Estel looked in wonder and touched the woman's statue with her tender hands.

Glorfindel smiled as he watched Estel taken by the statue. He took two paces closer and said, "Estel, this woman here is the mother of Elladan and Elrohir."

"El and Ro. Their mother." Estel repeated.

"Did they tell you her name?" Glorfindel asked.

Estel shook his head, his black curly hair bouncing on his head.

"She is Celebrian, Estel. Tell her name, Estel."

"Celebrian." Estel repeated.

"Again, Estel."

"Celebrian."

"Good. You however will refer to her as Amme."

"Amme."

"Say it again."

"Amme."

"Nice. Celebrian is not your mother, Estel. What do you call your mother?"

"Naneth (Nah-nehth)." Estel replied.

"Good."

"Where be Amme, Uncle Findel?" asked Estel.

"She is now far away, Estel, where we cannot go."

Estel became sad. "Why can't El and Ro go?"

"Amme is far over the water, Estel. You know what and where the water is?"

"Naneth told me once. She sang me a tale of the seas. It is west of here, she says, very far."

"Yes, very far but over it we go and we then find a new land. Amme is there, Estel."

"When do we meet her, Uncle Findel?"

"Not soon, Estel. It is far to go, very far. Do not worry, young lad. She watches over you in her dreams."

Estel smiled. "Does she?"

"Yes." Glorfindel sighed. "Now come."

He then took little Estel a little further. The corridor took a bend and to their right was raised a huge hill. Upon it were carved many statues of stone.

"What do you see, Estel?" Glorfindel asked.

"A hill and statues atop it."

"A hill, yes. Have you seen it before?"

Estel shook his head. "No. Perhaps you will, Estel. One day, perhaps. But you should know its name. It is called Amon (ah-mohn) sul."

"Amon Sul." Estel repeated.

"Repeat again, Estel."

"Amon Sul."

"Do you know what Amon means?"

"No, Uncle Findel."

"Amon means hill."

"Hill. Hill is Amon."

"Yes. Now this hill, Amon Sul, it means Hill of Wind"

"Hill of Wind. Why is it called that?"

"Because the hill stands high, little Estel. It is said that ages past, a king stood there waiting for the armies of the elves."

"Oh!"

Glorfindel smiled. "Come now. Forward we go."

A little further, they saw a black gate joining the two foothills upon which towers were built.

"Here, Estel."

"A gate, Uncle Findel, but black."

"Black Gate, yes. They are in Mordor far to the South. You have heard of it, have you not?"

"Naneth tells me tales of Mordor whenever I misbehave. The tales give me chills."

Glorfindel sighed. "The land belonged once to our foes, Estel and now also. This is the gate which leads into that cruel land. But think not of dark things now, Estel. As you see, this is a gate. You will find many such things elsewhere than Mordor."

"Gate."

"Yes, gate. Now repeat after me. Annon (ahn-non)"

"Annon."

"Again, Estel."

"Annon."

"Good boy. Now hurry along."

They walked along the corridor with a brisk pace. Soon, they came to a painting where tall grass grew, bright yellow and some places green.

Glorfindel looked at it sadly. He remembered the place. Ard-Galen it was called then and when the dragon battle came, it was renamed Anfauglith. Memories seeped into his head, overflowing like water bursting from a huge dam. Sighing, he turned to Estel who clearly was admiring the portrait. It was painted long ago in Lindon and Elrond had carried it here.

"What do you see in the painting, Estel?"

"Grass." He replied.

"Yes, grass. We call it Salch (sahlkh)."

"Salch."

"Yes, now be a good boy and repeat it."

"Salch."

"Good. You know this place, Estel? No. I do not think so. This is Ard-Galen. It was very beautiful. This painting was done by a very skilled man just years before the battle of sudden flame. That was when the dragons came. You know about dragons, Estel?"

Estel nodded.

"Who told you, Estel?"

"El and Ro."

"Ah! The twin brothers. Then know that dragons burned down this grass garden and when it did, we named it Anfauglith."

"Anfau…"

Estel could not pronounce it. Glorfindel smiled. "Repeat after me. An –"

"An"

"Fau"

"Fau"

"Glith"

"Glith."

"Now say it again, Estel."

"Anfauglith."

"Good job, Estel. Come now."

Then there was a portrait of a river flowing swiftly amidst green lands.

"This is a river, Estel."

"River."

"Yes, river. We call it duin (do-in)"

"Duin"

"Yes. Tell again."

"Duin."

"Good job, Estel. Now you shall walk this corridor with me. I shall tell you all their names and what they are called."

And so till the evening fell, they went on, Glorfindel teaching Estel the words for different things and people and places. He resorted to Sindarin at first and then would take to Quenya.

When the darkness began to fall, Glorfindel led Estel back to the chamber from where they had started but it was empty save for the guards.

"One day, Estel, I shall tell you the tales of places we visited. But not now. Go. It is time for you to play. Run along now, young child."

Estel smiled and kissing Glorfindel on his brow ran out of the chamber shouting for Elladan and Elrohir.

Glorfindel smiled as he watched Estel run. He was very happy. Estel had proved to take in a mass of information quickly. He had learnt his letters and how to pronounce it. He had made some mistakes yes. It was harder with Elladan, Glorfindel knew. Estel had been faster in the taking.

Night fell on the fortress and Glorfindel began devising Estel's study. Every day for three whole months, Glorfindel would have Estel go into the corridor and repeat the names of the works. Only when he was satisfied with Estel did he go into the next part. The tales he had promised Estel.

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	25. Chapter - 24: The Beast Are Found

**CHAPTER – 24  
THE BEASTS ARE FOUND**

A red sky loomed above the icy grounds; the glow emanating from the western horizons. Night was coming at last. The company began to move. Amidst a huge hue and cry raised by the orcs, the easterlings could hardly listen to each other's words. They were far to the north now and away from the lands of their enemies. Yet the land northward seemed to stretch out for leagues and it was never ending. The land was a mountainous terrain; each mountain steeper than the next. The western borders were closed to them by huge mountain ranges that steeped westward. Far away they knew was the land of Forodwaith, north of Angmar. There dwelt the ice-men but that was not the way they needed to go. West was closed to them, north was their direction.

The mountains in the heath were tall and steep, the pathways made upon ridges. There were no roads in that area which troubled the journey-makers. They had to climb down steep gorges out of which icy water flowed sparkly blue. The sun was not so hot there yet its rays could be felt at the back of their heads, scorching it when the sun was high. And now it was night almost, the stars beginning to show themselves.

The orcs were muttering. They had not liked the news that their leader Gothmog was no more. The Dunedain were closer than they thought and they hated those rangers of the west, always harrying their lands and slaughtering their people. They did not like their mission almost failing. Their Master was not happy with them. The search continued.

Two months they had been out scouring the withered heath and the icy lands of the north for a sign of the dragons but nothing they found. The area was desolate. A scout had been sent to the dark fortress far south but he had not returned. Instead his head did, carried by an envoy of the dark fortress who came upon a black horse. He had come with a handful of soldiers and had made camp sixty leagues south of here. He gave creeps to them, sending chills down their spine. One of the Ringwraiths he was, the Nazgul. They feared to tread around him. After promising a search, they had left with these easterlings by their side sent by the emissary of their Master to keep a watch on their work. The orcs had spat when they were leagues away from the black horseman and yet they had shuddered after it.

Afraid of further retribution, they had hurried along the icy outlines of the north, yet carefully treading the way. They rested during the day and ran faster in the night.

Night was nearing. The torches were lit and orcs bellowed. Their leader, Grishnakh, led them now across a small gap between two barren mountains. The road suddenly led into a deep snowy valley with small clusters of pine trees, its rooftops white. Ashen grey mountains loomed ahead of them, tall and with sharp peaks covered with snow.

The orcs made a great clamor as had not been heard for many a year. Grishnakh knew this place. He was there when it all happened ages ago. He knew the ruins of Utumno were not so far away but he did not intend to lead his band to the dark fortress. It was likely there was nothing there but utter ruin. The idea that dragons may lurk there yet did not excite him. So far they had found no dragons. Bands of orcs had scoured the northern wastelands yet nothing.

Smaug must have come from somewhere. There must be a dragon pen. There had to be. The search had to go on otherwise his master would be angry.

Then Grishnakh stopped. He smelled something for his nose rose eagerly upwards, sniffing the cold air.

"This way!" he shouted. "Come along, scum!"

And so the band ran along a deep snowy trench towards the west. Soon they had reached a lone mountain set aloof from the other ranges. He signaled for his orcs to stay calm and hide themselves in the trees that surrounded. "Wait for me!" he cried.

He climbed up the stony slopes of the mountain, grasping the protruding boulders. His feet sent pebbles rolling on the slopes but he cared not. Intent upon his goal and sniffing the very air, he climbed making as little sound as he could. In time, he came to a rocky ledge upon which a huge cave was delved into the mountain. He silently padded his feet along the walls of the cave when he heard a deafening shriek. He covered his pointy ears and slowly, walked inside. The cave led him directly into the heart of the mountain. It was dark inside and he was forced to light a small torch. The fire illuminated a small tunnel and Grishnakh ran into it.

The tunnel was short and it led directly into a bigger cave. Hiding behind the wall, he saw it: a huge sleeping beast shaped like an eagle. It had huge black wings and its body was hued green. There were eight eggs around it, huge and oval shaped.

A wicked smile spread across Grishnakh's face. The Nazgul would be happy and Sauron too. He sped back the way he had come and carefully climbing down the sharp precipices of stone, he came at last to the pine forests his band had hidden.

A slimy orc came forward. He hissed. "What did you find?"

Grishnakh's eyes lit themselves green. "We found it. Master will be happy."

Orcs around jeered and men clapped and hooted.

Grishnakh got furious and shouted. "Silence! We do not want to wake it. We must take the news south to where the black man awaits us. Come, quick in the shadows we must be."

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